<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Keeper by totoroism</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27829585">Keeper</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/totoroism/pseuds/totoroism'>totoroism</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Vampire Lee Minho | Lee Know, Witch Han Jisung | Han, i guess?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:33:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>50,186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27829585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/totoroism/pseuds/totoroism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love with the statuesque vampire professor who walked into his office that day was not a part of Jisung’s life plan. But, hey, shit happens, right?</p><p>OR: The one where Jisung is a witch who specializes in the keeping of cursed artifacts, Minho is a vampire who’s just trying to keep his students engaged in class, and all of their friends are exhausted with the two of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>521</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1 || Han Jisung Does Not Get Paid to be Gay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There’s really not much to this first chapter but don’t worry I know what I’m doing &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jisung yawned. He had just gotten back from his lunch break and it was looking like the second half of the day would be as uneventful as the first. He supposed he ought to cherish it while he could; it was only a matter of time before the professors started assigning a new round of research projects that would once again bring more than a few curious students to his office. It happened every year—well, every <em> semester, </em>really. Big research projects would pop up for finals, students would inevitably remember a fancy cursed artifact from their textbook, and they would show up at his office in front of the collection rooms and ask if maybe, just maybe, the University was in possession of the one they were writing about. It usually was. After all, the University prided itself on having the largest collection of cursed and-slash-or haunted objects and artifacts in the world. </p>
<p>And Han Jisung prided himself on being its keeper. </p>
<p>There were few in the world who were qualified for such a job, after all. It took an intimate knowledge of the dark arts and how to combat them to keep such a collection docile. Without a good witch who specialized in the dark arts to keep the curses and hauntings soothed, it would be all too easy for something to go horribly wrong in the blink of an eye. As he wandered the rows and rows of shelves, all full of glass cases containing the worst the world had to offer, he smiled to himself. </p>
<p>To think they had tried to steer him away from the dark arts as a child, to think that they had tried to convince him that pursuing such knowledge would only ruin his life. Oh, he had proved them all wrong—his family, his friends, his teachers… they had all warned him that the dark arts would corrupt him before he could gain mastery over them, but look at him now! People didn’t always know what he looked like, but there wasn’t a person involved with magic who hadn’t heard of Han Jisung. After all, he <em> was </em> a world leader in the positive use of the dark arts and the sole keeper of the largest collection of cursed artifacts and haunted objects in the world. </p>
<p>He made a note in his journal next to the one from this morning’s first walkthrough. October 19th, 1:35 P.M., all quiet. The mass soothing he had performed on the 16th was still holding. It was a step in the right direction towards keeping the collection inactive for long periods of time—and thank <em> God </em>it had worked, because it had wiped him the fuck out for the weekend. He was still a bit tired and would’ve liked to be at home in bed, but he had a job to do. </p>
<p>From behind him, he heard the ringing of the bell in his office. Someone had come to see him. He snapped his journal shut and headed back that way, expecting to walk in and find a wide-eyed student overwhelmed with their newest assignment. He unlocked the door that separated the collection and his office, stepped in, and once again locked it behind him without looking up; that door had to stay locked at all times, <em> just in case. </em>He shoved the key back in his pocket. </p>
<p>“Alright,” he said as he took a seat in the chair behind his desk. “What can I do for you?” </p>
<p>He finally looked up at his visitor and almost choked on air. </p>
<p><em> Fuck</em>, he was <em> pretty. </em> He looked like he had just stepped out of a classic painting of a <em> god. </em> That was just unfair. <em> Completely </em> unfair. No living man should look like <em> that</em>. </p>
<p>“I hear you’re the guy I need to talk to,” the man said after a momentary pause, also taking a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. He ran a hand through his beautiful dark brown hair. Jisung tried to stay focused on what he was saying; he was on the clock, after all, and he did <em> not </em>get paid to be gay. Unfortunately. “Professor Lee Minho, Survey of Classical Vampire Studies. I hear we have the Hollow Gem of Azriel.”</p>
<p>Jisung crossed his arms and nodded. “We do. Are you wanting to take a look at it?”</p>
<p>“Actually, I was hoping I could use it for a little while.”</p>
<p>Jisung couldn’t hold back a laugh. “<em>Use </em> it? What do you mean by that?”</p>
<p>Professor Lee—it felt wrong to think of him as <em> Minho</em>, considering they’d just met roughly two seconds ago—only looked mildly perturbed at Jisung’s laugh. “I’m having a lecture later this week on the subject of curses and such in classic vampire tales, historical or fictional. Given the history attached to it, I was hoping I might be able to show the gem to my students.”</p>
<p>Jisung wasn’t exactly an expert on vampire lore, but as the keeper of such artifacts, it was only natural that he knew the histories behind them. That gem… some superstitious vampires refused to say the full name, just in case they accidentally brought it and its owner’s wrath down upon themselves. Legend said it had been in the possession of a madman hellbent on dominating the vampire world—and the rest of the world, really, but baby steps, right? Gotta start with one part of the world before moving on to the rest. </p>
<p>Jisung shook his head. “I cannot allow you to remove the Gem,” he said. “Not alone. If you want to use it in your lecture, you’ll have to take me with it.”</p>
<p>Professor Lee sighed. “I guess you think I’ll accidentally set something loose, right?” he asked. </p>
<p>“Well, yes. The possibility of things accidentally getting set loose is the whole reason a collection like this needs a keeper.” Jisung uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. It seemed like the man across from him was as overly confident in his ability to handle <em> curses </em> as he was pretty. And that was <em> incredibly </em> dangerous. “I am <em> entirely </em> willing to bring it to your classroom and help you present it to your students. I do this kind of thing all the time. I’m just saying that I can’t let you do it alone, for safety’s sake.”</p>
<p>Professor Lee thought for a moment, then gave in without any further prodding. “Alright. My lecture is Friday at 12:30. It’s an hour and a half long, which you’re welcome to stay for if you feel like it. The kids might think you’re interesting, too. Can you be there at noon so we can go over what I’m planning on covering?”</p>
<p>Jisung grabbed his journal and opened it, flipping to Friday’s schedule. He didn’t <em> think </em> he had anything planned for that time, but he needed to be sure. Get there at 12:00, class started at 12:30, stay until 2:00 as to not disrupt class by leaving immediately after he finished… “I can do that,” he said as he took his pen and started to scribble in the note. “What building and room?”</p>
<p>“Sheppard Hall, 306.”</p>
<p>“Now, it’s <em> just </em> the Gem you want, right? I can’t go hauling a bunch of these things across campus.”</p>
<p>“Right, just the Gem. It’s probably the most interesting thing we’re going to cover that day, so I figure it’s more than enough.”</p>
<p>“Alright, then. I can do that.” He mentally cursed at himself when they shook hands and his heart seemed to beat a little harder. “I’ll see you on Friday, Mr. Lee.”</p>
<p>It was <em> absurd </em>how much he was looking forward to it. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 1.5 || Lee Minho is Not in Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho complains to Chan.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First of the mini-chapters!! Tbh not much important stuff I ever gonna happen in these but they’re a fun little look at other perspectives in the story so</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You could’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>warned </span>
  </em>
  <span>me,” Minho whined as he took a seat across from Chan. They were meeting in that same café they always met at, but this time, Minho had a bit of a bone to pick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Bout what?” Chan asked as he took a sip of his tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That the keeper is adorable, jackass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan couldn’t bite back the laugh that bubbled to the surface. “Seriously? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>what you’re pissed at me about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude. You’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>got </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be joking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>like I’m joking? He looked at me and I almost forgot what the fuck I went in there for! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you knew. You should’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>said </span>
  </em>
  <span>something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grin on his face, Chan sighed and shook his head. “Minho… just because I know what he looks like doesn’t mean I knew you’d fall in love with him at first sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>in love </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure? You’re kinda acting like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho groaned and placed his head in his hands. This was fucking stupid and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, but he couldn’t stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking </span>
  </em>
  <span>about that cute little motherfucker. He was only a bit shorter, probably only a bit younger, and he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>precious </span>
  </em>
  <span>with his soft face and sparkly eyes and— “I’m going to stake myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck with that, bud.” Chan took another sip of his tea while Minho reconsidered his existence. “Y’know, you can always just… I dunno, talk to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a horrible idea. The fuck am I gonna say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, people usually start with telling each other a bit about themselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey, I’m a vampire, I own three cats, and I might be kind of obsessed with you</span>
  </em>
  <span> is definitely gonna win his heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you admit that you’re obsessed with him,” Chan said pointedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Minho replied, “just that I’m not in </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him. There’s a difference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minho—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, what the fuck do I do? Should I play it cool? Should I go in with my intentions on my sleeve? What should I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Minho.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cute or not, he’s just a guy, okay? Relax. Just a guy. You’ve talked to guys before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho knew Chan was right, of course he did. It wasn’t like he had a long track record or anything, but Minho had had a few boyfriends in the past. But that was also the </span>
  <em>
    <span>problem. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The guys he’d dated before… when he met them, he hadn’t felt the way about them that he was feeling about Han Jisung right then and there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was new territory. For a guy who’d been around for the better part of a century, foreign ground was more intimidating than it really needed to be. He’d just thought that he had experienced it all already, that there couldn’t possibly be any emotional surprises waiting around for him. It turned out that he’d been wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>killing </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and took the longest drink of his coffee that he could physically manage. He wasn’t used to not knowing how to handle things, not at all. He had thought he’d gotten his shit together like three decades ago, and yet… he sighed heavily. And dramatically. “I’m fucked, Chan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan just shrugged. “Yeah, I could tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you do,” Chan said with a grin. “I know.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 2 || Han Jisung Dresses Like a Witch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung goes to present to Minho’s class.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah so there’s some universe lore stuff in this one and I promise you none of it is actually important to the story I just like to have fun lmaooo I hope y’all don’t mind that ♡</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“And that’s about it,” Professor Lee Minho finished. He was sitting on the edge of his desk at the front of the classroom, looking way hotter than he should have with his slacks and his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and—</p><p>“Sounds good,” Jisung said, forcing himself off of that train of thought. “You’ve got a good variety of things to discuss.”</p><p>“Well, I <em> try </em> to keep the class interesting. I imagine most of these kids would rather be in <em> Modern </em> Vampire Studies.” He sneered the word <em> modern. </em>“I’m friends with a guy who teaches one of its sections. Pretty sure half the class is just there to stare at him.”</p><p>Oh, boy. “Let me guess. Chris Bang?”</p><p>“You know him?”</p><p>“We go way back.” Jisung shrugged. “He’s not a bad lookin’ guy. He’s always been really patient and nice, too. Easy to talk to. Of course he’s popular with students.”</p><p>Minho rolled his eyes. “I mean, yeah, he’s a great guy and all, but can you imagine subjecting yourself to an entire course just because you heard the professor is hot?”</p><p>Jisung elected not to tell him that he had once done just that when he was in school. “You know how students are,” he said instead. “They’ll have their fun and get over it soon enough.”</p><p>The first students started to trickle into the room. It wasn’t an auditorium, thank God, but it was a decently sized class. Jisung fell silent and went to stand against the wall where the small carrying case containing the Hollow Gem was resting, gleaming red in its case. He watched as the professor started to greet his students and collect papers from them, no doubt something he had assigned them in a previous session. While the room slowly began to fill, he walked over to the chalkboard and wrote: <em> What are your plans for the weekend? </em></p><p>“What’s that?” Jisung asked quietly. “Your attendance?”</p><p>“Yeah. I don’t like to make them start <em> thinking </em> right as they walk through the door.”</p><p>God, Jisung wished his teachers had been like that. He could’ve sworn half of them wanted <em> essays </em> at the beginning of every class session. So this guy was handsome <em> and </em>considerate of his students? Ridiculous. How dare he. </p><p>The room slowly filled. Once the clock ticked over to 12:30, Professor Lee walked over and shut the door. He allowed five minutes for the students to write their attendance sheets, then collected them and dropped the pile on his desk. “Alright,” he said, taking on a tone Jisung recognized as the <em>academic </em>tone his professors used to take once class started. He once again took a seat on his desk rather than on his chair. “So, since I just made you all write that big essay these past couple weeks, I figured I’d give you a bit of a break and we could talk about something that <em>might </em>be a bit more interesting to all of you. You don’t have to take notes, I won’t quiz you on any of this, but you’re welcome to if it interests you.” Almost every student in the room immediately closed their notebooks. “Today we’ll be covering curses from classic vampire mythology. Objects from tales of people like Heathrow, Manadon, Lithern… and to help, I’ve enlisted the keeper of the University’s artifact collection.”</p><p>He motioned for Jisung to step out from his hiding place, not that he was doing much <em> hiding. </em> He was pretty sure every student had seen him there as soon as he walked in. He swallowed nervously and stepped out to say hello, thinking about how <em> dumb </em>this was. He was one of the best witches in the world, and yet there he was, made nervous by thirty college students having the nerve to look in his general direction. </p><p>Well, college kids <em> were </em>objectively scary. </p><p>“Han Jisung,” he introduced himself. A couple of the students perked up at his name. Some of them knew about him, then. “I’m sure Mr. Lee has this under control, but I’ll be here to answer any questions you might have for me.” When no hands raised just yet, he retreated to his position by the wall. This was not in his job description. </p><p>“Thank you again for being here, Mr. Han,” Professor Lee said, sounding much more formal with him than he had ten minutes ago. Jisung… really didn’t like it, actually. For some reason, that sense of formality got under his skin. Why was that? Before he could ponder it any further, the professor began, “With that all out of the way, let’s go ahead and get started. We’ll begin with Heathrow. Now, you all know him as…”</p><p>Jisung couldn’t help but zone out as the lecture started. He had a semi-functional knowledge of the basic histories of these people, and when the professor finally got to the curse parts, it was all stuff Jisung knew like the back of his hand. Every now and then a student would raise their hand and ask a question, something that didn’t need Jisung’s expertise. His eyes landed on the case on the floor. It was probably disrespectful as all hell to leave it down there, but what was he gonna do, hold it the entire class period? Unlikely. </p><p>He wondered if the collection was holding up okay. He had done a walkthrough this morning and soothed the objects that needed it, but what if more of them were getting worked up and he wasn’t there to calm them down? It was a risk he took every time he stepped out of the office, granted, but somehow it felt wrong to be separated from them while he was still on campus. </p><p>About forty-five minutes passed before the professor looked over at him. “Mr. Han,” he said, “would you like to introduce our next topic?”</p><p>Jisung stretched his arms above his head for a moment. “Of course.” Professor Lee finally got down, standing off to the side so Jisung would have room. Carefully, gently, he picked up the display case from the floor and carried it to the desk, setting it down where all of the students could see it. He swallowed his nerves. He could do this just fine. He was a master of the dark arts, for God’s sake. </p><p>“This,” he said, “is the Hollow Gem, said to have belonged to Azriel—a name which I’m sure is no doubt familiar to you if Mr. Lee is <em> any </em> good at his job.” The collective chuckle he got from the class was enough to dissipate his nerves; a good laugh always put him at ease. He glanced over to see the aforementioned Mr. Lee looking rather unamused at the joke, but he decided not to worry about it. Not now, anyway. “It’s said that the soul of Azriel himself resides inside the gem, just waiting for someone to come along and free him so he can get back to what he was doing before he was so <em> rudely </em>staked through the heart. According to the legend, Azriel had planned for this event, going through the process of soulbinding before the infamous raid of his castle in 1505. When he was staked, his soul transferred immediately to the hollow center of the gem without any outside assistance, rather than needing a minion to quickly perform the rituals for him. </p><p>“Now, I couldn’t tell you if it’s actually him or not, but I <em> can </em> tell you that there is <em> something </em>inside this thing. Every private owner has, inevitably, died horribly. I know, I know, what a boring, run-of-the-mill curse, right? But I doubt you’d think that if you ever saw the states the bodies were found in. Each and every one of them dismembered, their organs scattered across the room, but not a drop of blood anywhere to be seen. And somehow, the gem always looks just a little redder and a little less hollow than usual—like he’s feeding and filling up, even in death.”</p><p>A student raised his hand. “If that thing really does have Azriel’s soul in it, what would happen if he got out?”</p><p>“Well,” Jisung said, honestly a bit surprised that anyone had anything to say, “as with any soulbound objects, he would possess the body of whoever managed to free him. His soul would consume yours, killing just enough of you to leave your body functional—but empty, so he could move in and use you like a <em> puppet. </em>It would take time, of course, for him to regain his strength, but make no mistake: He would. With time, he would. I have no doubt he would set about completing his original mission. And if you think they had a hard time managing to kill him the first time, trust me when I say he’d be even worse the second time. He doesn’t strike me as the type to forgive and forget.”</p><p>“If he possessed a human, would the human eventually turn into a vampire? Is that possible?” another student asked. </p><p>“Absolutely,” Jisung confirmed. “There are hundreds of documented cases of a vampire’s soul possessing a non-vampire and the possessed body changing to match. The body reflects the condition of the soul.”</p><p>Yet another student asked, “What if it isn’t Azriel? What if it’s just some random vampire with a grudge?”</p><p>“Then it would be <em> much </em> easier to kill whoever it is that second time. Still, better safe than sorry. We’ll be keeping the soul <em> inside </em>the Gem.”</p><p>From somewhere in the back of the room, a small voice asked, “Why do you dress like a witch?”</p><p>Jisung couldn’t help but laugh. With him dressed in his regular all-black ensemble, it was a fair question. “Because I <em> am </em>a witch. What, you didn’t think they hired a regular dude to keep the collection, did you?”</p><p>“What else is in the collection?”</p><p>“Too much to even <em> begin </em>to tell you about with the time we have left today. But you’re all welcome to drop by my office if you’re curious.”</p><p>Some time passed in that manner. Once the students warmed up to him and him to them, they built a nice little rapport. Every now and then Jisung would glance over to see if their teacher wanted to move on, but he was always just watching with a sense of… pride? No, it couldn’t be. That was stupid. But it put Jisung even more at ease, letting him discuss this case with the students <em> without </em>feeling like a dick for taking teaching time away from their actual professor. </p><p>“You know,” Professor Lee said as his students filed out at the end of class, leaving just the two of them in the room. “I <em> am </em>good at my job.”</p><p>Jisung chuckled. “I’m sure you are. It was just an ice breaker.”</p><p>“You should sit in on a couple more classes,” he said just before Jisung picked up the display case. Not a moment too soon, then. He would have dropped it if he had been holding it. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“So I can prove it.”</p><p>“You… heard me say that it was just a joke, right?”</p><p>“Is that a <em> no</em>?” His voice was barely a mutter when he said, “I just… thought it might be fun.”</p><p>Jisung sighed and picked up the case. The Gem was still resting peacefully. Hopefully the rest of the collection would be, too. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and his stomach did a nervous little turn. He had only managed to not get off track during his little presentation because he couldn’t <em> see </em>the professor while he was talking. If he sat in on a class, he’d be looking at him the whole fucking time and he wasn’t sure his heart could take that. “I—I’ll definitely think about it. Have a good day, Mr. Lee.”</p><p>Just as he was about to step out the door, “Just call me Minho. Nobody calls me <em> Mr. Lee</em>.”</p><p>He glanced over his shoulder. His soft smile was involuntary, but really, could anyone blame him when such a pretty guy just told him it was fine to drop the formality? “Alright, then. Have a nice rest of your day, Minho.”</p><p>Minho smiled back. “You too, Jisung. You too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>More gay nonsense next time folks :sparkle emoji x5:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 2.5 || Lee Minho Questions His Friendships</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho just keeps on whining.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chan groaned loudly. “Would you </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know, I don’t think I will,” Minho replied. “Not only did you neglect to tell me that you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him, but I also feel even more fucked than I did before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a joke, Minho! He knows you’re good at your job!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you freaking out and hoping he shows up at class tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I want to impress him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Chan raised an eyebrow and said in the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>obnoxious </span>
  </em>
  <span>way possible, “Is that so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you fucking look at me like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan snickered. “Sorry, sorry, but you’re making it way too easy to tease you. I don’t usually get to screw with you! Let me have this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll kill you,” Minho said with a completely straight face. “I mean it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” Chan replied. “Lookin’ forward to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The café door opened. In walked Seo Changbin, who grinned and headed over to the table before bothering to go order something. His pointed ears flicked in amusement. “I knew I’d find you guys here,” he said, making himself comfortable. He tilted his head towards Chan, his hair falling around the small horns protruding from his forehead. God, maybe he played too much into his own mischievous heritage, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>lived</span>
  </em>
  <span> for shit like this. “Minho still bein’ a gay disaster?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, absolutely,” Chan replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told </span>
  <em>
    <span>Changbin </span>
  </em>
  <span>about it?” Minho demanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously. Who do you think I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighed and flopped forward, pressing his forehead against the table. “I’m gonna kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin laughed. “Ah, come on. Jisung’s just a little witch boy. What’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst </span>
  </em>
  <span>that could happen if you make a move?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho hesitated. There were a lot of things going through his head, but… he really didn’t want to verbalize any of them. He settled on the most cliché, stupid shit he could—even though he really didn’t mean it when he said, “He could curse me, Changbin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin didn’t seem to pick up on Minho’s lack of genuineness in that statement. He just scoffed and said, “Okay, sure, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. He’d come too far to abandon ship. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>do you know that for sure?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. Me and Chan have known this guy for ages. He’s really chill. If he’s not interested in you, he’ll just turn you down and move on. He’d only curse you if you did something </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho finally looked back up. “I’m not going to say anything to him about it. I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun. I’m gonna go order a coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for the first time, Minho found himself wondering why he stayed friends with these dudes. But the thought passed, leaving him with an unfortunate reality: He really was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I say it with the utmost love when I tell y’all that Changbin has hobgoblin heritage he can be a good little helpful boy and he’s also a pain in the ass &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 3 || Han Jisung is (Thankfully) Not a Student</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung finally takes Minho up on his offer, then makes one of his own.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay there’s only minimal nonsense lore stuff in this one so &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jisung tried to look as confident as possible as he walked into the classroom. It had been a week since he had helped Lee Minho with his little presentation, a week since he had been invited to sit in on a couple of classes. It had taken a lot of internal debate—and some external debate, mostly with Hyunjin, who seemed to have been around the block a time or two when it came to dealing with Minho—for him to decide, yeah, sure, he’d go ahead and show up at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>once. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It would be rude not to, right? And… well, he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to spend an hour and a half unabashedly staring at a gorgeous man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho was sitting at his desk, looking through a few papers. Class wouldn’t start for another twenty minutes, so no students had shown up yet. Maybe it was stupid to have gone so early, but… he wanted to talk to him again. Staring was all fine and dandy, but there was something about Minho that interested him. His attitude, maybe? He wasn’t sure. He just knew that he wanted to hear Minho say his name again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho didn’t look up until Jisung asked, “Whatcha doin’ over there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung,” Minho said, surprised. Yep. This was worth it. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shrugged. “The collection’s doing fine today and I don’t have any meetings, so… figured I might as well drop in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile Minho gave him made Jisung feel like a dumbass for ever hesitating. “Well, you can make yourself comfortable. I’m just making sure I have everything I need for the lesson today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung walked over to stand beside Minho’s chair and get a better look at the papers. “What are you planning on talking about today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The 1610 London purge,” Minho said. “We took a bit of a rest at the end of last week, like you saw, but on Monday we started our unit on mass purging events.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s some pretty heavy stuff, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. We can’t ignore the past just because we don’t like it, though. It’s great that people like me don’t have to worry about being purged anymore, but we can’t pretend like it never happened. Have </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>forgotten Salem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung paused. “I… didn’t really think about it like that,” he admitted. “Good point. I haven’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The past is a weird, fucked-up place,” Minho sighed. “Non-humans like us… we can’t afford to forget any of it, not if we want to be prepared in case it happens again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think it might?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“History is a cycle. How many times have we made the same mistakes because we never learn? There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> a chance it could happen again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was the way Minho seemed to think deeply about things that never crossed Jisung’s mind that drew him so far in as they talked. Maybe it was the gentle way he spoke about such serious things. Or maybe it was the way his mouth moved around what he said, carefully choosing the words as he went. Whatever it was, Jisung listened intently as Minho spoke, thinking about how much he’d love to just sit down with him and have a talk about life outside of their academic setting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really…” Jisung said, trailing off when he couldn’t find just the right word. “Fascinating,” he finally decided on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho raised an eyebrow. “Is that a good thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, absolutely,” he answered embarrassingly quickly. “I mean—I talk to a lot of people with my job, but I don’t get to talk to a lot of people </span>
  <em>
    <span>deeply. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m interested in the way you think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that… a blush? It was faint, but Jisung definitely thought he was seeing a blush on Minho’s face. Minho looked back down at the papers on his desk as if he was suddenly </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> interested in what they had to say. Oh, God, he was cute. “Uh, thank you, I think,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that was that. Jisung was in love. He would now dedicate his entire life to winning this man’s heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, maybe that was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit </span>
  </em>
  <span>dramatic, </span>
  <em>
    <span>buuuut… </span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>The first of the students started to file in. One greeted Jisung, asking if he was going to help out again today. The look of surprise on the kid’s face was </span><em><span>priceless </span></em><span>when Jisung said no, he was pretty much just there to hang out. He waited to find a seat until Minho walked over and closed the classroom door to get class started, electing to sit at the back where it wouldn’t be </span><em><span>painfully </span></em><span>obvious that he was openly staring</span> <span>at him. Sure, the students would be watching him too, but it wasn’t the </span><em><span>same. </span></em><span>As far as he knew, anyway. With a face like </span><em><span>that</span></em><span>, there was absolutely </span><em><span>no</span></em><span> way that none of Minho’s students had a big fat crush on him. </span></p><p>
  <span>Thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>God </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jisung wasn’t a student anymore and actually had a chance with the hot professor this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, if Jisung’s professors had all sounded the way Minho did when he cleared his throat and started class with that academic tone of his, he probably would have been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> better student. He hadn’t been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>student or anything—his inherent control over magic forces had been enough to outweigh his tendency to procrastinate—, but he always did better in classes where he wanted to impress the professor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would’ve kicked this class’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As what seemed to be his usual, Minho started class while sitting on his desk. “Today we’ll be covering the London Purge of 1610. I’m sure you’ve been over the basics in other classes, but this is one of the more overlooked purges in London, so I wanted to talk about some of the dirtier details with you. If we have time at the end of the lecture, we’ll go ahead and start on the Paris Purge of 1675 as well. If not, we’ll get to it next week. So, before I get started, I want to gauge what kind of collective knowledge we have about this one. Tell me what you all know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first hand went up and Jisung got lost in the way Minho paid so much genuine attention to each student. Throughout the class session, Minho took special care whenever one of the kids asked him a question, never once acting like they were dumb for asking it—even when there </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>stupid questions. He was patient, making sure everyone was sticking with him every time he added a new name, a new location, a new death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung found himself thinking about what Minho had said earlier. </span>
  <em>
    <span>People like me, non-humans like us. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Obviously, Jisung wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>blind </span>
  </em>
  <span>or anything</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had noticed the fangs whenever Minho opened his mouth and the slight redness that said he needed to get a bit more blood into his system working its way into the brown of his eyes. No, Jisung wasn’t stupid. He had known from the moment they met that Minho was a vampire, but he hadn’t really considered how that must actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, especially considering the class he taught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was Minho genuinely concerned that someone would take offense to his species, even today? Jisung had never had to worry about it. There were no outward signs that he was a witch, after all, and even if there had been, public opinion of witches had changed a lot since the Salem days Minho referenced. These days, witches were </span>
  <em>
    <span>useful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, always there to provide natural remedies and such. As long as Jisung minded his business and didn’t go around blabbing that he was into the dark arts without context, he’d be able to live his life just fine. Maybe Minho couldn’t. What must it even be like to still feel that fear? To have people look at him like he was inherently dangerous? Jisung had at least had a choice about which branch of magic he would go into. Minho didn’t have a choice but to be born a vampire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Minho remained perfectly professional as he walked everyone step-by-step through that purge, starting from the death of one little human girl and ending in the murder of fifty-six vampires, though the mob that did the staking and the burning had no proof that any of the vampires they executed had had anything to do with the girl’s death. Even in those days, most vampires just wanted to live their lives in peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few more questions popped up at the end of the lecture, eating up the rest of the class period. When Jisung had been a student, it had been a bit on the rare side for his classmates to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything. He attributed the difference to Minho’s nature. The way he listened so carefully, answered so genuinely, the way he looked when he flipped through the textbook to find further reading references, the way his voice sounded… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Jisung’s self-control had been any worse, he might very well have asked Minho just how he managed to be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot </span>
  </em>
  <span>once the students had left and it was once again only them in the room. Instead, he walked up to Minho’s desk as he was gathering his things and said, “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho smiled. “Hey. You learn anything today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That he was obsessed with him, but he wasn’t going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>say </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. “Yeah, actually,” he said instead. “It’s interesting stuff, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shook his head. “I think you’re stronger than I am. I don’t think I could teach lessons about humans murdering my people for bullshit reasons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it. It’s still not </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but like I said, we can’t just ignore it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he knew what he was really doing, Jisung had already asked, “Do you wanna go to lunch with me sometime?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho almost choked on his own spit at the sudden question. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d just like to talk with you,” Jisung said. “Outside of school, I mean. I wanna pick through that brain of yours.” When Minho hesitated, he quickly added, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds good, actually,” Minho interrupted. “You just… caught me off guard. I don’t get a lot of invitations like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The content I teach doesn’t require a lot of collaboration between colleagues. I don’t meet with a lot of new people. Other than the new students every semester, anyway.” He closed his class notes and attendance sheets into a file folder, then slid it into his bag. “But lunch sounds good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “I need to get back to the collection,” he said, “so can I, uh… get your number? So we can figure out a good time that way? My schedule is in my office anyway, so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course,” Minho said with a nod. “Works for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was how Jisung came to be in possession of one Lee Minho’s phone number—and he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>stop smiling about it, all the way from that classroom to his office in the library. Oh, this had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>such </span>
  </em>
  <span>a good day. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> glad he hadn’t listened to Hyunjin telling him that Minho was a pain in the ass.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt like a kid again with the way he was all hyped up over this guy. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen any other gorgeous men around, but there was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>about Minho that made him so much more attractive than anyone else Jisung had run into. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it and it was driving him insane—but maybe he’d be able to figure it out when they went to lunch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That stupid grin still on his face, he sent off a text saying he was free on Tuesday, if that worked. When he got back a response that it did, he leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling in an attempt to calm himself down. It didn’t really work, but at least he tried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was gonna be a long weekend.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My God! These bitches gay! Good for them! Good for them!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 3.5 || Bang Chan is Getting Caught in the Middle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chan scrolls through his texts.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So there might be a few chatfic elements here and there but I promise they will be manageable &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Jisungie </b>
</p><p>I got his number &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>Look at you! All grown up and flirting! :’)</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisungie</b>
</p><p>Shut up I’ve been grown for a long time</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>But you haven’t been flirting!</p><p>You’ve usually just waited for people to flirt with you lololol</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisungie</b>
</p><p>Shut uuuuuup</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Changbinnie</b>
</p><p>He’s right tho lmao</p><p>It’s cute that you’re finally making the first move</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisungie</b>
</p><p>Yeah yeah whatever </p><p>Anyway</p><p>God I feel so fucking stupid asking this but</p><p>Has he said anything about me?</p><p> </p><p>Chan rolled his eyes and swiped out of the group chat, hopping over to the conversation he’d had with Minho about fifteen minutes ago. These guys… </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>So. Jisung and I are going out to lunch on Tuesday</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>Nice, nice! </p><p>You excited?</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>I’m freaking out </p><p>He’s so cute</p><p>What do I do</p><p>Help</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>Deadass how are you gonna act like this and then have the absolute nerve to get irritated when I tease you about it</p><p>Just talk to him like a normal person and you’ll be fine. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>Lolololol seriously though </p><p>Why are you so worked up about him?</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>I couldn’t tell you if I tried. He’s just… </p><p>I’m not sure. </p><p>I just can’t get this guy out of my head. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>Well, I hope you can figure it out soon. </p><p>Seriously. You’re killin me here. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>Whatever</p><p> </p><p>Obviously, Chan wouldn’t do something like take a screenshot of the conversation to send to Jisung. He’d already done more than enough by blabbing to Changbin about Minho’s feelings, but he also couldn’t bring himself to lie to Jisung and act like Minho wasn’t talking about him. He just… probably shouldn’t mention how <em> much </em>Minho had been talking about him over the past week, not if he wanted their relationship to develop naturally. </p><p>He flipped back to the group chat. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>Yeah. He’s looking forward to your lunch, actually. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisungie</b>
</p><p>Really?</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Changbinnie</b>
</p><p>He thinks you’re cuuuuute</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>Changbin, shut up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Changbinnie </b>
</p><p>He does!! </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisungie</b>
</p><p>Did he say that? </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Changbinnie</b>
</p><p>Talked to him in the café we go to the other day</p><p>He literally has not shut up about you </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisungie</b>
</p><p>Why do I feel like you’re bullshitting me rn</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Changbinnie</b>
</p><p>I’m not! </p><p>Cross my heart! &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisungie</b>
</p><p>Chan?</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>He just said that he hoped you’d show up to his class. He was really glad that you did. </p><p>He’s interested in getting to know you, like you want to get to know him. Changbin’s just being a brat. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisungie</b>
</p><p>Fuckin FIGURED</p><p>But thank you for telling me idk I’d be sad if he hadn’t mentioned me</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>No problem, bud. Hang in there!</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisungie</b>
</p><p>I will!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next one might be a smidgen on the long side but y’know that’s life</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. 4 || Han Jisung is Not on a Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho and Jisung go to lunch.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Man.... there they go</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As they often did, Jisung, Hyunjin, and Seungmin walked to campus together that Tuesday morning. They all lived in the same apartment complex, so it was nice to get together some mornings and help each other get mentally ready for the day. It also happened that winter would finally overtake fall any day now, so they wanted to get in what last few walks they could before it became insufferably cold out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still can’t believe you’re actually going out with Minho,” Hyunjin said when there came a lull in the conversation. “He’s… something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin rolled his eyes. “We get it, Hyunjin. You have a weird relationship with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t act like you aren’t in the same boat. Vampire-werewolf rivalry bullshit…” Hyunjin shook his head. “He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I guess. It just… it felt weird how excited he was when I told him what I am when Chan introduced us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you blame him, though?” Seungmin asked, electing to not get into the intricacies of vampire-werewolf relations. “There’s not a lot of male nymphs in the world. He’s curious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still, I dunno. I just don’t like when people make a thing out of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you talked to him about it, I promise you he would never bring it up again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how do you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Him and Jeongin are good friends, so I end up hanging out with him sometimes if we’re all together. I know him better than you do. He’s a mess, sure, but he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> drop it if he knew it makes you uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung groaned. “Why did all of you fuckers know this dude before I did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin laughed. “Probably because you’re always in your office and people who come through are all either students or researchers. I’m sure you guys would’ve met before now if you came to more of Chan’s get-togethers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Logically, Jisung knew that Seungmin was right. Emotionally, he immediately got a bit defensive. He was one of the precious few people in the world who were qualified to take care of the collection, so he took his job very seriously. There were lots of people to deal with, lots of things to keep track of—plenty of reasons why, by the time he left his office for the evening or the weekend, he was just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He always felt bad about turning down Chan’s invitations, but no matter how much he loved his job, he really needed time to recharge after a week at work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing that he probably could’ve met Minho sooner made him regret not pushing through it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Hyunjin said, “you sure you’re gonna be alright today, Jisung? You said you didn’t sleep much last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he had said it, he had played it off as </span>
  <em>
    <span>just one of those nights. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They didn’t need to know that he’d been staring at the wall, his stomach doing nervous flips every time he thought about seeing Minho outside of school. Which was pretty much all he could think about, considering he’d been looking forward to it since Friday. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ve only got one meeting this morning and the rest of the day is open for students. It’s not finals season yet, so I doubt I’ll have </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> many of them coming through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I know you can handle anyone who drops by the office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you mean, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be alright with Minho? I mean, you’re still trying to get to know him, so… I guess I’m just worried you won’t feel your best to talk to him since you didn’t sleep much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung smiled. A few years ago, he would’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>gladly </span>
  </em>
  <span>had an old-fashioned cage match with this dude. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot as the product of a misunderstanding that just didn’t get cleared up until Chan intervened, but God, they’d fought like cats and dogs whenever they saw each other until then. And now they were walking peacefully side-by-side, Hyunjin actually concerned about Jisung’s well-being. It was funny how life worked out sometimes. “I’ll be okay, really. I’ll send an SOS text if I need anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep a lookout for it,” Hyunjin said. “Good luck today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung took that wish of good luck and shoved it in his pocket, just in case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found himself yawning as he walked to his office, saying hi to a few of his colleagues along the way. It was nine in the morning, bright and early, and he had three hours to kill before he’d meet Minho outside the library. Thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>God </span>
  </em>
  <span>he actually had a job to do. He’d be an absolute wreck if he had nothing to do but wait for those three hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His morning started the same as always. It was a quick walk through the collection, checking in to see if anything was irritated. Everything seemed to be doing fine—except a weighty tome in the book section, which was shaking slightly in its chains as it tried to pry itself open. He closed his eyes and pressed his hand to the glass of the container it was kept in, focusing his energy as he spoke the soothing spell in a low voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The world is silent. Rest, and awaken with the dead.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It would only hold the curse for a little while. He’d probably have to do this again in a month ago, speaking of a day that would never come. There were a lot of things existing in the world that had once been thought of as folklore and myth, but that whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>awaken with the dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing? Bullshit, based on some old religious prophecy that people these days knew was just an exaggeration to scare people into behaving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, curses—placed there by regular magic or the dark arts—were fueled by fear. And that fear, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>dread </span>
  </em>
  <span>that maybe, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>one day the dead really </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> come crawling out of their graves… it was enough. It was enough to be channeled into these objects, enough that they needed to be soothed with the promise of that day of reckoning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the book fell still, Jisung withdrew his journal from his pocket and jotted down the time and the object that needed soothing. Once that was done, he continued on to make sure everything else was calm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All was silent. He returned to his office up front to wait for the researcher who had scheduled the only meeting he had for the day. While he waited and no students seemed to be heading his way, he sighed, reached into his desk drawer, and retrieved the book he’d been reading. It was going to be a long morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time noon rolled around, Jisung was pretty sure he was about five seconds away from losing his </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He rushed through gathering his stuff for lunch and practically ran through the library to the main entrance, earning more than a few confused looks as he went. He really didn’t care, though, not slowing down until he came to the doors. He didn’t want to go charging outside and look like an over-excited </span>
  <em>
    <span>moron</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even if he was acting like one.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was assuming Minho would already be waiting for him. It was only two minutes past noon by the time he opened the doors and stepped outside. It was ridiculous to think that Minho would for sure already be—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath caught in his throat when he saw Minho standing by the library fountain, looking down at his phone as he waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was already there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung swallowed and took a deep breath, standing up a little straighter and hoping he didn’t look panicked as he walked over. “Hey,” he said as he approached. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho looked up and smiled immediately. “Hey, Jisung. How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Much</span>
  </em>
  <span> better now that he’d seen Minho’s pretty face again. “Good, good,” he said. “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t complain.” He shoved his phone in his back pocket. “Did you have somewhere specific in mind for lunch or are we winging it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Uh. I didn’t really think that far ahead,” Jisung admitted. “You can choose, since I made you take the time out for it anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>make </span>
  </em>
  <span>me do anything. I… wanted to,” Minho said with a shrug. Jisung thought he saw that slight tint of a blush again, but it was gone in an instant. “No big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still. You choose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho thought for a second. “Mmm, there’s a place I like about a ten-minute walk off campus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung nodded. “Yeah, of course. Lead the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all he could do to force himself to watch where he was going as they started on their way. He did his best to only look over when Minho spoke. Most of it was standard </span>
  <em>
    <span>getting to know you </span>
  </em>
  <span>small talk, but that did nothing to change the fact that he really just… wanted to stay focused on him without worrying about tripping over his own two feet because he wasn’t paying attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just had to hang in there until they got to wherever Minho was taking them, he told himself. Then he could sit across the table from him and stare all he wanted—as long as it was somewhat reasonable to be looking at him, anyway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was thinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> too hard about all this and he knew it, but what else was he gonna do? He really didn’t want to screw this up. He didn’t want to get caught staring at Minho and risk Minho thinking he was weird. It was different than when he had watched him in class, after all. He had had a good reason to be focused on him that day. But now? Just walking through town together? It would be weird to put all his attention on the handsome vampire next to him, no matter how badly he wanted to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it seemed like the small talk about whether they liked this kind of weather and what they’d done so far that day was starting to run out, Jisung said, “I wonder why vampires evolved the way they did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, you get all your nourishment from blood, right? So what was the point in your tastebuds still liking regular food? Why doesn’t your system react negatively if you eat something meant for… well, literally anyone who isn’t a vampire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know… I’m not actually sure,” Minho said. “I’m glad for it, though. Can you imagine how miserable it would be to have a non-human lifespan and not be able to enjoy </span>
  <em>
    <span>food?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’d rather kill myself, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho laughed and it was, by far, the best thing Jisung had heard all day. “Right? I wouldn’t last a week like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, do you have a regular eating schedule? Or do you just eat whenever you want since you don’t really have to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much whenever I want, but I try to keep a proper meal schedule like anyone else. It’d throw me off to eat a full meal at midnight, y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, for sure. If I eat anything before eight in the morning I just get tired and pass back out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately. Learned </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> one the hard way,” he sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho chuckled. “That’s cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jisung’s heart couldn’t take this. He tried to tell himself not to take it too personally, that it was just an off-handed comment, but it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>impossible </span>
  </em>
  <span>to not be happy that Minho called him cute. “It’s stupid,” he muttered. “And really sucks for early mornings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a lot of those?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every now and then. Sometimes someone who needs to meet with me is, y’know, on the other side of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>world</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so I’ll get up early and head in for a video call with them. Sucks to be awake for four hours before you can even eat anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, can’t you just go back to sleep for a while after you’re done talking to them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minho. If I go back to sleep, I won’t wake up until after lunchtime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was being completely serious about that, but Minho laughed again and he couldn’t help but smile too. That sound was just… Minho’s amusement was absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>infectious.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You’re not good at waking up, are you?” Minho asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shook his head. “Not at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I have to set, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>five </span>
  </em>
  <span>alarms to get up in the morning. You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I manage well enough. Although, sometimes I wake up and I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>tempted to send out an email canceling class so I can just stay in bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, how would anyone know? Just say you got sick and you’re good to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but I’d feel bad lying to them like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung rolled his eyes. “Did you never fake being sick to get out of school as a kid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m eighty years old, Jisung. School was a bit different back when I was in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look remarkably good for your age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regretted it as soon as it was out of his mouth. A grin came across Minho’s face as he asked, “Do I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Jisung said, positive he looked mortified. “You know it was a joke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I’m just teasing. But that reminds me. Witches age differently from regular humans, right? How old are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, y’know. Old enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> an answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure it is!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not! Tell me how old you are, seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna think I’m a baby compared to you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung, I teach a bunch of late teens and twenty-somethings for a living. You’re fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung sighed. He really didn’t want to say it in case Minho thought he was too young and his chances with him went straight out the window, but he was kind of backed into a corner. He couldn’t avoid answering without sounding like a jerk. “Forty-two,” he finally admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not a baby. That’s a perfectly respectable age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span> that, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he had a chance to mope about it, Minho said, “Oh, this is the place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung raised an eyebrow when he saw the sign. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bites</span>
  </em>
  <span>, huh? Isn’t that a little on the nose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shrugged and held the door open for Jisung. “The owners are vampires. Guess they thought it was funny. They have the best sandwiches in town, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know, I’ve eaten a lot of sandwiches in my time. You sure you want to make that bet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho seemed ridiculously confident when he grinned and said, “Absolutely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they stepped up to the counter to check the menu and order, Jisung had to remind himself that this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a date. This was just a normal lunch between two guys who were just getting to know each other, no matter how much he wished it was a date. That was moving too fast. It was not a date. He would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>try to be all chivalrous and offer to pay for both of them. That was stupid. That was—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get the bill,” Minho said as he pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket. “Order whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Motherfucker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” Jisung said, hoping Minho wouldn’t look too closely at him and see what he sure was a nice little blush on his face. “I can buy my own food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho chuckled. “I don’t doubt that. But you let me choose this place, so you might as well let me pay, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, Jisung caved. “Fine. But I’ll get it next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried not to be too excited that Minho hadn’t denied the possibility of </span>
  <em>
    <span>next time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then again, they hadn’t actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>had lunch </span>
  </em>
  <span>yet, so there was always a chance he’d change his mind. In any case, they made their orders, grabbed their drinks, and found their way to a table by the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have another vampire question,” he said as they got settled in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, vampires have a sun allergy, right? But it doesn’t seem to be bothering you. Why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shrugged. “Some of us have it worse than others. It’s like being allergic to a dog, I guess. Some people just get a little itchy and others have trouble breathing, right? For us, some people get a bit sore if they’re in direct sunlight for too long and others have really bad reactions from just a few moments. I just got lucky to be the former.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had also gotten lucky to have such a pretty laugh and such a beautiful face, but Jisung wasn’t going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. He was already pushing his luck with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you look good for your age</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll pay next time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“So, what if you had to go be outside for a long time? Would you have a worse reaction as time went on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” He lifted his bag off the seat next to him for a moment. “There’s always an umbrella in this thing, just in case. Can I ask you a couple things, though? I don’t want to just… do nothing but talk about myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung would have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than happy to listen to Minho do nothing but talk about himself. He was soft-spoken, not in a hard to hear kind of way, but in a calm and easygoing kind of way. Even so, Jisung nodded and said, “Yeah, sure. Go for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never actually met another witch involved with the dark arts,” Minho said. “What exactly do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I know you make sure curses don’t escape the collection and kill people, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. “People don’t… usually ask me that,” he said after a stunned moment. He looked down at his hands on the table, suddenly feeling a bit more shy than he probably should have. “People just hear I’m in the dark arts and assume I’m gonna curse their bloodline or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without even getting to know you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s just how people are. My kind of work doesn’t exactly have the best reputation to back it up, y’know. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely </span>
  </em>
  <span>understand why that’s where their minds go, but… it’s frustrating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back up to see Minho nodding like he completely understood what Jisung meant. And Jisung knew he did. Even in the modern world, it was sometimes very hard to be non-human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. Minho had asked him what he did, and he intended to answer that question. “Well,” he said. “Historically, the dark arts have been used for cursing people or raising the dead or whatever. And, I mean, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>guess </span>
  </em>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> do that stuff, but I don’t really see any appeal in it. There’s still a lot of remnants of old magic in the world. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>main</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing I do is help keep it under control, like with the collection. A keeper couldn’t stay in touch with the collection if they didn’t come from the same background as the objects in it. It’s like, they say you have to fight fire with fire, right? The best way to combat the dark arts is with the dark arts. If some old remnant wakes up and starts causing problems or if someone gets the idea in their head to raise the dead, I can help get the situation back under control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, hypothetically,” Minho said as a waitress brought them their food, “if someone decided they wanted to rule the world or something like that and the best way to do it was with the dark arts, you could use their own magic against them and stop them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking something like he had to take a second to comprehend what Jisung had said. After what felt like </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> too long, he leaned forward again and said, “That’s… really cool, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it?” Jisung asked. “It’s not a big deal, really. There's just… a lot of forces out there that ordinary people can’t handle, so I do it instead. It’s just what I can do to help keep the world from going to shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>interesting. Is that why you went into the dark arts to begin with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah… well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting the feeling it’s not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thirteen. I thought they were cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hold back the laugh that bubbled up. “Are you serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grin on Minho’s face would have made Jisung feel absolutely humiliated if it had been on anyone else. Instead, he found himself grinning right back</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I mean, yeah?” Jisung said. “I was like, ‘Everyone is telling me not to do this thing I’m interested in, so that must mean it </span>
  <em>
    <span>rules </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do it!’ So I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I really enjoyed it, too. I just didn’t find a practical use for it until a couple years later.” He shook his head and finally tried his sandwich. The embarrassment about how he started down his life path was starting to sink in, so he tried to change the subject with,“Alright, I concede. It’s a good damn sandwich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>you,” Minho said, some stupid smug look on his handsome face. He immediately burst Jisung’s bubble, though, diving right back in to ask, “Back up, though. You went into the dark arts out of… teenage rebellion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. He couldn’t avoid it forever. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>proud</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it, but. Yeah. My parents came around when they realized I wasn’t slowly losing my mind or anything.” He shrugged. “What made you go into teaching?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Minho let Jisung’s origins drop and answered the question. “Once I got to college I realized nobody knew jackshit about </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> vampire history. They either only knew the barebones they were taught in high school or they only knew mythology. I’m pretty sure half of the people I met thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dracula </span>
  </em>
  <span>was nonfiction.” The irritation in his voice was </span>
  <em>
    <span>palpable. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“It drove me crazy, so I decided to do something about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is so much more noble than my teenage rebellion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. You probably got the better salary, so you might’ve won.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean… yeah, the salary </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>pretty nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does the University have you on staff for anything besides the keeper job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. Anything else I do is on my own time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you do other stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, if people ask me to. I’ve been called in to help perform rituals all around, but I do smaller stuff, too. Like, every now and then Chan will ask me to mix something up to help him sleep. Dumbass always insists on paying for it even though I’ve told him not to worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nodded and sighed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. How does that work, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does what work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Making potions and things. Anyone could throw together some herbs and call it a potion, right? How do you channel magic into it to make it </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>? And do you use any quote-unquote </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span> magic for that sort of thing, or is it all dark since that's your specialty?” In an instant, he realized how much he was talking and smiled meekly. “I’m sorry if I’m asking too much. I’ve just never actually gotten to talk to a witch about how they practice magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, this was so weird. Nobody ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>asked </span>
  </em>
  <span>things like that. Nobody ever gave a shit </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> he got anything done, just as long as he did. Being asked those questions with such</span>
  <em>
    <span> sincerity </span>
  </em>
  <span>was really throwing him off. He assured Minho that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>to answer his questions, but it took him a moment of thoughtfully chewing on that admittedly delicious sandwich to even come up with a starting point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realized it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible </span>
  </em>
  <span>to actually be able to talk about </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>practice of magic instead of just talking about the collection he kept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First of all, he was perfectly well-versed in the more </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>methods of magic. He had to be if he wanted to have any grasp of the dark arts; they were stronger than common types of magic, after all, so he had to maintain a strong foundation of those other common types. For the most part, he used ordinary magic for making the potions and charms and spells that were requested of him. All it really took was a bit of concentration, a clear picture of the desired result, and a few choice words to imbue something with the magic it needed to work. It came easy to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if he needed something to be a bit stronger… that was when he had to try a little harder, dig a little deeper, and reach out to less savory methods of getting things done. There had been one client, he told Minho, that had come to him when she was at the end of her rope. She was being stalked by an ex who wanted her back, but she didn’t have any </span>
  <em>
    <span>proof. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Without that proof, there wasn’t anything that could legally be done to protect her. So she turned to witches, hoping to find one who could craft a protection charm for her, something to keep her safe from the man who wouldn’t leave her alone. According to her, he was entirely too persistent; the ordinary charms she had commissioned hadn’t stopped him from always managing to find her, to weasel his way into her day. She needed something stronger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needed something from someone like Jisung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he crafted the charm. It was a carefully designed arrangement meant to be kept hidden by her front door, the main entrance that marked the start of her home. Under the light of the moon through an open window, he took the skull of a crow, placed unpolished pieces of obsidian in its eye sockets, rested it on a bed of lavender and bay, lit the herbs aflame, said an incantation he would certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>repeat under ordinary circumstances, and quenched the fire with blood. He didn’t say whose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presented the bloodstained skull with the obsidian eyes to the woman the following day. She put it in the bushes by her front porch, giving the skull a line of sight to whoever came to the door without the charm itself being seen, just as he had said, and waited. A week passed before she called him again. The ex had tried to break into her house, she told him, trying to pick the lock to get inside while she was at work. And it just so happened that a patrol officer drove down her street at just the right time. She didn’t know how long they would keep him, but the incident gave her grounds to file a restraining order. She thanked him more sincerely than she had ever thanked anyone, then never called again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like to assume that’s a good thing,” he finished. “I think she would have called me again if she needed anything else, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho had listened to everything with rapt attention. He was leaning forward, his elbows on the table, food forgotten as Jisung spoke. When Jisung concluded his story, he let out a long breath and slowly said, “You… you’re really something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shifted nervously, suddenly all too aware of the fact that he just admitted to using bones and fire and blood in his magic—all to a guy he’d known for roughly two weeks and spoken to about four times. Had he scared him? God, did he </span>
  <em>
    <span>already </span>
  </em>
  <span>go and fuck it up? It must have sounded so </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>, all that talk about skulls and blood to put out some flames he lit in his own apartment. His stomach rolled as he asked, “Is… uh, is that a compliment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a light in Minho’s eyes as he smiled and nodded and said, “Absolutely.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is any of this accurate to real world magic? No! Do I care? Also no! I’m here for a good time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 4.5 || Lee Minho Wants a Messenger Pigeon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho gathers some courage.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was his eyes that drew him so far in, Minho thought. It was the way Jisung’s pretty brown eyes grew wide when Minho asked something that surprised him, the way they sparkled as he talked about his magic. The way they scrunched up when he smiled that wide, heart-shaped smile. The way they stayed focused on Minho whenever it was his turn to speak, curious and </span>
  <em>
    <span>interested </span>
  </em>
  <span>whenever Minho answered one of his questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>cutest. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Parting ways with him in front of the library after lunch was the hardest thing Minho had had to do all week. He wanted to stay with him, to keep asking him about who he was and to keep watching him as he spoke. But he had work to do. He had to get back to his office to open up for office hours, had to make sure things were in order for his Wednesday lecture, had to reply to emails…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...had to pull out his phone and send a text before he lost all courage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Do you have some time tomorrow?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His stomach rolled anxiously as he started up the stairs on the way to his office. Would he reply before Minho got up there? God, he hoped he would. He was really strict with himself—once he was inside the office, he didn’t have time for funny business. Although, he could probably make an exception…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
  <span>No, he would not. He would walk up the stairs, he would open his office, he would turn off his cellphone, and he would do his fucking job like a real goddamn adult. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would just walk up the stairs very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart almost exploded in his chest when a new message popped up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I should! What’s up?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s this one café I like to go to</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was wondering if maybe you’d want to go get a coffee or something </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before or after class either way is fine</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you want</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt so stupid. This was so stupid. Why couldn’t he just fit everything into one text like a normal person instead of </span>
  <em>
    <span>quadruple </span>
  </em>
  <span>texting? He had always had trouble with just sending one text at a time. What if he was being annoying? What if Jisung hated that? He didn’t wasn’t to irritate him, but he just… this texting thing was so much more complicated than it needed to be. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for the modern era. Maybe he should invest in a messenger pigeon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I have a couple meetings tomorrow buuuut</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Does 3:30 work or is that too late? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Works for me</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Should we meet in front of the library again?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>See you then!! ^u^</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Assuming Minho </span>
  <em>
    <span>lived </span>
  </em>
  <span>that long; he wasn’t sure he could take much more of this. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief and waited for his heart to stop feeling like it was going to give up and die before walking up the rest of the stairs. He’d done it. He’d asked Jisung to spend time with him and he had said yes and it didn’t seem real and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey, Minho,” Chan said as he walked out of his office, the one next to Minho’s. Come to think of it, it was about time for Chan to be heading to his classroom to get set up for today’s lecture. “You just get back from lunch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Yeah, I did.” He held up his phone like a dumbass. “We’re gonna meet again tomorrow, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I like your tone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan laughed. “I take it you had a good time, then. What did you talk about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This and that, I guess. He asked me a couple vampire questions, I asked him a couple witch questions… regular stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what’re you planning to talk about </span>
  <em>
    <span>tomorrow, </span>
  </em>
  <span>if you got all that out of the way already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho groaned. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>clue. I’m hoping it’ll just kinda… work itself out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan patted his shoulder on the way past. “Hang in there. You’ll figure it out. If all else fails, I’m sure he’d love to complain about me and Changbin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess we have that in common.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You suck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He elected to ignore the low-hanging fruit. “Yeah, whatever. Get lost. I have work to do and you have a class to teach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t, but thanks for the offer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan just laughed again and headed off down the hall, one main thought in his head: Yeah, those idiots were a pretty good match.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gay people</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 5 || Han Jisung is Obvious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung and Minho go to get a coffee, but end up getting more than they bargained for.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>&lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jisung could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>himself light up when he walked out of the library and saw Minho there, waiting for him just like he had the day before. Still, he tried to reign in his excitement at least a little. “I hope you weren’t waiting long,” he said as he walked over to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho smiled and Jisung just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was totally </span>
  <em>
    <span>screwed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His smile was seriously just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>unreal. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I just got here,” Minho assured him. “How were your meetings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Realistically, Jisung knew it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>for Minho to remember that he had been busy with meetings that day, but it still caught him off guard. “Same as usual,” he said with a shrug. “I had a couple students come through who were more interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? What’d they want?” Minho asked as they started the walk to the café, Minho leading the way just as he had before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One wanted to ask me about a book they read about online. The other was from your class, actually. Did you assign something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho looked slightly taken aback. “Yeah, but it’s nothing that they’d need to consult you for. Do you know who it was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh… I think she said her name was Becca?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho chuckled. “She sent me an email after you came to present to the class. Apparently she thought you were interesting and wanted to tell me that it had been a really good idea to bring you in for the session.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She really sent you an </span>
  <em>
    <span>email </span>
  </em>
  <span>just to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure did. You underestimate how much the kids like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious! They paid a lot of attention to you, even the ones who usually get on their phones halfway through the lecture. They seemed to think it was cool when you came to watch class, too.”</span>
</p><p><span>“But </span><em><span>why?</span></em><span> All I did was sit</span> <span>there.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“You handle cursed shit for a living!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughed. “So? That’s never gotten me brownie points with anyone before!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung almost lost it when Minho suddenly slung an arm around his shoulders. “Do you think you could come in again sometime? Bring something else for them to look at? I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m using you for that or anything, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m not, but it’s just… it’s really nice to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of my students engaged. They really perked up when you were there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As hard as he tried to not trip over his words in response to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>contact,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he really couldn’t help it. “No, I—I know you’re not trying to, like, use me or anything. I just… I mean, sure? I don’t mind helping out, if you think it’ll help the kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I owe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? I don’t mean to trivialize what you do, I’m sure it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculously </span>
  </em>
  <span>difficult, but you have no </span>
  <em>
    <span>idea </span>
  </em>
  <span>how </span>
  <em>
    <span>frustrating</span>
  </em>
  <span> it is trying to teach kids these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on. They don’t seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad when they come through my office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One time a few of them got in before I did and I walked into the room to hear them giving each other a TED talk on how to tie a noose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re joking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until Minho opened and held the café door for Jisung that he realized—Minho had never let go. They’d walked a block off campus with Minho’s arm slung around Jisung’s shoulders like it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he hadn’t even noticed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span> did he not </span>
  <em>
    <span>notice?</span>
  </em>
  <span> As he walked into that little café, he could only reach one conclusion. It had just felt… </span>
  <em>
    <span>natural. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat, trying to pull himself out of his own thoughts. There was, after all, something he needed to say. “I said I’d get the bill next time. It’s next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho looked a bit confused until his brain made the connection—then he grinned and let out a good-natured sigh. “Yeah, I guess it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want? I’ll go ahead and order if you wanna find a table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho didn’t even pause to think. “I’ll get an americano.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hot or iced?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I, a monster? Iced.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, he was perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are—Are they your favorite, too?” Jisung asked with a vague hope that they weren’t, that they didn’t have that in common, that it was just a coincidence and he wouldn’t get even more attached to Minho over his fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>coffee </span>
  </em>
  <span>preferences. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Minho half-nodded, half-shrugged as he said, “I don’t know if I really have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>favorite, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do, </span>
  </em>
  <span>probably. They’re your favorite?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, the gods were cruel. “Yeah, absolutely,” he confirmed. “So. Two iced americanos. I’ll go get those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cursed under his breath as soon as Minho stepped away to pick a table. This was so beyond stupid he couldn’t even fathom his own stupidity, and yet there he was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too happy about ordering two of the same drink for them. It was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>coffee. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A literal </span>
  <em>
    <span>coffee. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he was excited to find out that he had it in common with Minho, that they had similar tastes—at least, they did in this one thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing was enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the coffees were done, Jisung went and got settled into the chair across the table from Minho and passed him his drink. “Honestly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>impeccable </span>
  </em>
  <span>taste,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho took it and grinned. “Of course. You don’t live eighty years and not develop a sense of </span>
  <em>
    <span>culture.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, is that eighty years </span>
  <em>
    <span>even</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or are you eighty the way I’m forty-two and say I’m forty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m eighty-one, but is there really a difference?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot can happen in a year!” A lot could happen in a couple weeks, evidently, but he elected not to bring up that point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alternatively, I’ve spent that whole year trying to wrangle different groups of children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, come on. They aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>children. Cut the twenty-somethings some slack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone under the age of twenty-five is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Literal </span>
  <em>
    <span>infants </span>
  </em>
  <span>who haven’t faced the world yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you sound like an old man,” Jisung teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you ask any humans, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>an old man. And shouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> be coming up on your midlife crisis?” Minho replied. The way he didn’t miss a beat and just played along with Jisung’s joke made him </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>happy it was unreal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way!” he scoffed. “I’ve got at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>another decade till I snap and buy a motorcycle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be sure to let me know when you do, okay? I’d love to go for a ride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting there with him, talking and joking and laughing, Jisung realized something. He’d never been the kind of guy who got very comfortable with new people very quickly, but no matter how nervous he’d been about looking cool or whatever in front of Minho since the day they met, he was… surprisingly relaxed, actually. Minho had this </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him, something that just made Jisung feel at ease—even when he was hyped up on his own </span>
  <em>
    <span>I hope I don’t scare him with my magic talk I hope he thinks I’m interesting I hope he likes talking to me I hope I don’t annoy him </span>
  </em>
  <span>bullshit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easy to talk to him. When he asked a question, Jisung could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he actually wanted to hear the answer. When he made a joke, even if it wasn’t a great one, Jisung couldn’t help but smile and laugh. Whenever he opened his mouth, Jisung found himself leaning forward a little, making sure he caught every word he said with that smooth, gentle voice. And, </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he felt like such a sap, but how could he </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>notice the way those attentive, </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous</span>
  </em>
  <span> brown eyes of his caught the light? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho just felt… </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a weird feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho was in the middle of telling a story about the time he and Chan had to take a two hour roadtrip to go visit a professor at another university—a </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> university, which implied that this would turn into a horror story soon enough—when the bell above the café door chimed. His face fell. “Speak of the fuckin’ devil,” he muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung looked over his shoulder about the time Chan called out, “Oh, hey! Didn’t expect to see you two here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin was with him, a stupid grin on his face. “Mind if we join?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho’s face said </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d rather kill you myself, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but all he said was a curt, “Okay.” Then he looked back at Jisung and said, “If you’re okay with it, Jisung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was sure his own face also said something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to commit a homicide today. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“It’s fine, I guess,” he said, not having the heart to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that guy</span>
  </em>
  <span> and tell his friends to fuck off—even though he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan and Changbin got their drinks and settled in, Chan next to Minho and Changbin next to Jisung. When Minho was distracted by whatever it was that Chan was trying to show him on his phone, Changbin slung his arm around Jisung’s shoulders and pulled him in. “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>obvious,” he said softly, that annoying tone in his voice that he got when he was enjoying someone else’s problems way more than he should. “I wish you could see the way you’re looking at him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dude,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jisung hissed back, “shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And miss a perfect chance to fuck with you? Unlikely.” Jisung hated that shit-eating grin on his face, now even more than usual. “How’s your </span>
  <em>
    <span>date </span>
  </em>
  <span>been going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Could’ve fooled me. God, you guys look like some lovestruck teenagers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you guys whispering about over here?” Chan asked, startling both of them out of their quiet bickering. He was leaning halfway across the table with a similar grin on his face. “Anything interesting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Jisung said. He could feel the heat on his cheeks even as Changbin let him go. Maybe he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> have told them to fuck off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look on Minho’s face definitely made him think so. He looked… what </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>that, actually? Jisung hadn’t seen it on his face before. It wasn’t ordinary irritation, but it didn’t quite seem to be as strong as anger, either. Whatever it was, it just made him feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved his phone in his pocket and stood. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” he said, although he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>it sounded less than convincing. He stared at his shoes as he walked, barely breathing until he ducked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning against the door, he pulled his phone back out of his pocket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>SOS</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Are you okay?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>We were having coffee and Chan + Changbin showed up</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he looks kinda pissed and I feel like it might be my fault for saying it was alright for them to join us</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And I don’t want him to be mad at me but idk what to do</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay. Where are you right now? Still at the table?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Bathroom</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Just sit down and take a few breaths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Do you want me to come pull you out of there? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>No </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But can you do something about them</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah. No problem. I’ll call Changbin and get them out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Are you sure you can</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin seems to be enjoying this</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Who do you think I am?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have that dude wrapped around my finger. I can handle him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ll owe you one</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Don’t worry about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ll text you back once I’m done with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank you</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>No problem~</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Plot twist Hyunjin is the real hero of this story</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. 5.5 || Lee Minho Has it Bad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So this one is teeny but shhhhhhh</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“No, no, he’s right,” Chan said. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>look at Jisung like he put the moon in the sky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho groaned. “I fucking hate you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should’ve seen your </span>
  <em>
    <span>face </span>
  </em>
  <span>when I put my arm around him,” Changbin teased. “I can’t believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was all it took to finally make you jealous of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>jealous</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan slowly shook his head. “I dunno…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin’s phone started to ring, playing that obnoxious tone he had set for Hyunjin. Chan and Minho and all the </span>
  <em>
    <span>rest </span>
  </em>
  <span>of his friends knew that he had chosen it so he’d never miss it if Hyunjin called, but Changbin would never </span>
  <em>
    <span>admit </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. He just answered it in less than a second flat, completely blocking out the other two as they talked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighed. “Did I really look </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>jealous? Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan clapped a hand on Minho’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes, an odd mix of sympathy and amusement written across his face. “Minho,” he said, “you’ve got it </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho groaned and flopped forward, barely muttering an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ow </span>
  </em>
  <span>when he smacked his forehead on the table. “I suck at this,” he muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah, you do, but it’ll be okay! Jisung seems interested in you, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But is it in the same </span>
  <em>
    <span>way?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but it didn’t seem like his place to say so. Instead, Chan thought for a moment, then said, “I couldn’t say. But if it’s not the same kind of interest, I’m sure it </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>be if you just keep talking to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Chan?” Changbin interrupted. “Hyunjin said he needs to see us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan was about to ask if it could wait, but the look on Changbin’s face said it couldn’t. “Okay, yeah. Minho, you gonna be alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll manage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Text if you need anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, of course,” Chan said as he stood up. “Let’s go see what Hyunjin needs.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hyunbin? It’s more likely than you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. 6 || Han Jisung Has Connections</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Coffee not-a-date resumes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>Got him. </p><p>Get back out there.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>Thank you</p><p> </p><p>He took a deep breath. It would be okay. He’d go out there, sit back down with Minho, and everything would be fine. </p><p>It had to be, because he didn’t know what he’d do if it wasn’t. </p><p>He didn’t even get fully sat down before it came tumbling out. “You weren’t mad at me for saying they could hang out, were you? I’m sorry if you were, I just didn’t think I could tell them <em> no </em>without sounding like a jerk, so—”</p><p>“—I wasn’t mad at you,” Minho cut him off. “I was… <em> really </em>annoyed that they couldn’t just sit at another table and mind their business. Is… is that why you got up and left? You thought I was upset with you?”</p><p>Wordlessly, realizing how fucking <em> stupid </em>that all was, Jisung nodded. </p><p>“I could never be upset with you for not wanting to be a dick to your friends.”</p><p>Jisung let out an audible sigh of relief. Thank <em> fuck. </em>“Y’know, sometimes I really question my decision to be friends with them.”</p><p>“You too, huh?” All it took was that grin of Minho’s for Jisung to settle back down. “You don’t seem too surprised they left, though.”</p><p>“I… might’ve had something to do with it,” he said, scratching behind his ear. “I have connections.”</p><p>“Would your connection happen to be Hwang Hyunjin?”</p><p>“<em>Maaaaaybe</em>.”</p><p>“Good call. When do you think him and Changbin will finally start dating?”</p><p>“Hopefully soon. They’re gonna kill me if they don’t. Like, Hyunjin <em> knows </em>how fucked he’s got Changbin, but he refuses to make the first move. And Changbin…”</p><p>“Is head over heels but too proud to admit it,” Minho finished. “He’s gonna drive me insane. Is there a way to <em> magic </em> the goblin out of him?”</p><p>Jisung laughed. “God, I wish. I think you’d have better luck <em> time traveling </em> and making sure his parents never met.”</p><p>“Well, shit. Wanna go time traveling with me?”</p><p>“Y’know, normally I’d say <em> sure, </em>but I have a rule about not time traveling with people I haven’t even taken a road trip with.”</p><p>“Hmm. Roadtrip on Saturday, time travel on Sunday?”</p><p>“Assuming you aren’t insufferable on the road, sounds like fun.” He tilted his plastic cup towards Minho. “You’re buying the coffee for the road, though.”</p><p>“Actually…”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Just remembered my time travel machine is in the shop. We might have to do it next week over fall break.”</p><p>Wait. “Is next week actually fall break or are you fucking with me?”</p><p>Minho raised an eyebrow. “You forgot about a week-long vacation?”</p><p>Jisung closed his mouth around his straw to avoid answering that question.</p><p>Then something seemed to click in Minho’s head and he asked, “Do you actually <em> get </em>a full week’s vacation? Or do you still have to come in to check on the collection?”</p><p>Once again, he found himself surprised that Minho cared enough to ask something like that. Everyone usually assumed that he got the same treatment as the professors—including the same vacations. And, sure, he wasn’t shackled to the collection over breaks, but his work never really stopped. “This Sunday, then next Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday,” he said. “I have to go those mornings and check on everything. The spells I have on the cases will keep anything from breaking loose for a couple days if it wakes up while I’m not there, so I have to go in every other day to make sure.”</p><p>“That sounds miserable, actually.”</p><p>“It’s not bad. I still get a few days to sleep in.” He shrugged. “Besides, if I <em> don’t </em> go check in on everything, my anxiety levels will just be through the <em> roof. </em> Do <em> you </em>seriously not have any work to do over break?”</p><p>“I mean. I do, but nothing I have to go to campus for. <em> That’s </em>the part that sounds awful.”</p><p>“You know, going to campus probably wouldn’t suck for you so much if you didn’t dress so formally all the time,” Jisung pointed out. “I mean, come on. Nobody’s gonna care if you don’t wear slacks and a tie to your own class.”</p><p>“And what about you, goth boy?” Minho asked with a grin. “Are the full black outfits and perpetual layers of long sleeves a requirement for you?”</p><p>“I—You know what? You’ve got a point.”</p><p>“I usually do.”</p><p>“Being all smug like that is gonna get your ass kicked one of these days.”</p><p>Minho didn’t look the least bit concerned when he said, “Eh. I’ll worry about that when it happens.”</p><p>“<em>When? </em>So you know it’s going to?”</p><p>“Remember what I said about history being a cycle?”</p><p>Jisung immediately picked up on Minho’s meaning. “God, how many people have you fought before?”</p><p>There was a pause. “An amount.”</p><p>“That’s not a number!”</p><p>“They say age is just a number, right? The amount of people I’ve fought with is also just a number.”</p><p>“That is not even <em> remotely </em>the same thing.”</p><p>“Maybe not,” Minho admitted, “but you’re smiling, so I don’t think you’re too worried about it.”</p><p>That guy… </p><p>“I mean, if you enjoy getting beaten up, that’s your problem.” He would <em> not </em> be thinking about Minho out of that formal facade of his. He would <em> not </em> be thinking about him all roughed up from a fight. That would be weird. That would be <em> so </em> weird and Jisung would <em> not </em>think about it and—</p><p>There was an obnoxious smirk on Minho’s face when he said, “Yeah? You should’ve seen all the other guys.”</p><p>Motherfucker. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just think Minho sexy thanks for coming to my ted talk</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. 6.5 || Lee Felix and Bang Chan Are Wisemen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Felix and Chan talk with their friends.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Soon..... soon everyone will have made their appearances I promise</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As he always did, Felix gave Jisung all of his attention as he spoke, nodding along and only speaking when it was appropriate. He didn’t want to interrupt Jisung’s train of thought, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that that train of thought was very… coherent. He was talking a million miles a minute, most of it boiling down to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Minho is funny Minho is nice Minho is interesting Minho is handsome I really like Minho but I don’t even actually know if he’s into guys I’ve just been assuming and hoping for the best and we haven’t known each other long enough for me to try and—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Making an exception to his rule, Felix interrupted, “He does. Like guys, I mean. That’s how him and Chan met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung had been pacing around Felix’s living room. He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t either of them tell you? They met at a campus pride thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t think Chan was friends with straight people, did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know! He could be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not. Come here.” Felix smiled and patted next to him on the couch. Jisung sighed and walked over, plopping down with that hopeless look on his face. “You know we’d all warn you to not get attached if we thought it would end badly, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jisung muttered. “I just… I dunno what to do. You know me, I don’t usually get like this. I don’t know how to handle it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. It usually takes you longer to warm up to somebody, right?” Jisung nodded in reply. “But since you like him so much already, don’t you think that’s a really good sign?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… guess it could be. But it could also just be me being </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung, what are you so afraid of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you so afraid of?” Felix repeated. “The worst he could do is turn you down, right? Why is that so much scarier than the other times you’ve been interested in a guy who might turn you down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung stared hard at the floor as he said softly, “I’m not sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s because you all know him!” Minho snapped, finally breaking under Chan’s pestering. “It’s because you all know him and if he turns me down I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to hear the end of it and it’s going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>humiliating.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re not actually afraid he’ll curse you if you ask him out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> would I be worried about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you said!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because if I told you the truth Changbin would never fucking let me live it down!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan took a deep breath to compose his thoughts. “Alright. Let me get this straight. You have a crush on Jisung. You want to go out with him and you’ve been trying to flirt with him as best as you can, but you aren’t sure he’s interpreting the way you mean it. And you’re too nervous to actually ask him out because you think that we’ll make fun of you if he turns you down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you’re going to waste your time acting like a dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>a dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know, whatever,” Chan said. “Look, you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>got </span>
  </em>
  <span>to stop freaking out. I get that you like him, but getting all worked up on </span>
  <em>
    <span>what if </span>
  </em>
  <span>isn’t going to help you. If you can just let that go… if you just focus on what you can do in the moment instead of trying to think five steps ahead, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise </span>
  </em>
  <span>this’ll all go a lot smoother for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realistically, Minho knew that he was right. That didn’t stop him from groaning. “You’re such a sap. Stop trying to be a wiseman or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never one to lose ground to Minho, Chan bit right back, "Compared to you? I’m always a wiseman.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. 7 || Han Jisung is on a First Name Basis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung helps out with Minho’s class again.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>one singular day </span>
  </em>
  <span>between their meeting for coffee and Jisung showing back up to Minho’s classroom was torture. Sure, they’d texted a bit on Thursday, asking what each other were doing and such, but it wasn’t the </span>
  <em>
    <span>same. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But as Jisung walked back into that classroom carrying the little glass case he had promised to bring, the previous day was as far from his mind as it could get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho was dressed as formally as ever, leaning over his desk and writing something on a piece of paper. He looked up after a moment, a smile blossoming across his face. “Jisung, hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>smile. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If Jisung’s heart was any weaker, he was sure he’d be having palpitations. “Hey.” He raised the case to show Minho. “I brought the thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho walked over to take a closer look at it. “Is it true?” he asked. “Does this little thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>suck the life out of people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shrugged and walked over to Minho’s desk to put it down. “Depends on who you ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m asking you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In that case… yeah, it does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A cute little teddy bear like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, looks can be deceiving, right?” He kept his eyes focused on that little stuffed bear, somewhat embarrassed about the question he had decided to ask. “If you didn’t know me, you probably wouldn’t think I was involved in the dark arts, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause that went on for what felt like a beat too long. He looked back over at Minho, who was staring intently at Jisung’s face. After a moment longer and the feeling of heat filling his cheeks, Minho finally spoke. “No,” he said, “I definitely wouldn’t. You’re… softer, I guess, than what I would imagine for someone who could raise the dead. You’ve got the color scheme down, though,” he said, making a sweeping motion to encompass the, once again, fully black outfit Jisung wore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was one thing Jisung had caught on to, it was that Minho didn’t waste time in getting to his friendly teasing. “Okay, mister </span>
  <em>
    <span>I-can’t-go-to-campus-without-a-suit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he replied. “At least my outfits are comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took every ounce of Jisung’s strength to not focus on that pretty hand as Minho readjusted his tie. “You know what? I’m gonna give you that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, are you really still on the purge unit? I mean, they did pull this thing out of Boston.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nodded. “Yeah. Today’s the last lesson. They’re actually having a test today, but I thought it’d be nice to have you show them something interesting before I make them suffer like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you’re perfect,” slipped from his mouth without him realizing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, he didn’t realize until Minho looked up at him with that surprised—and slightly confused—look on his face. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I mean, just—the way you take care of them?” He didn’t mean to turn that statement into a question. He awkwardly crossed his arms, careful of where he was looking as he spoke. “Like, you give them easy attendance questions and try so hard to keep them interested and you encourage them to ask questions… you’re just, I dunno, I wish I’d had professors like you when I was in school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Man, staring at that teddy bear instead of even </span>
  <em>
    <span>glancing</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Minho suddenly seemed like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>good use of his time. This was it. He’d rambled too much, hadn't he? He’d said something stupid. Oh, to be able to curl in on himself and die. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence finally broke when Minho laughed harder than Jisung had ever heard. He looked up to see him wrapping his arms around his stomach, his shoulders shaking. “You—You give me </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too much credit!” he managed to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Minho repeated. There was no teasing in his tone, only amusement. He fought to regain his composure and didn’t try to talk again until he had won. “Christ, Jisung. Don’t get ideas like that in your head, not about </span>
  <em>
    <span>me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There’s no such thing as a perfect professor. I’m just trying to be a good one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A joking voice said, “Eh, you’re alright,” as the first of the students started to trickle in. “Mr. Han, are you helping in class or are you just here to chill again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung recognized the girl as the one who had asked him why he dressed like a witch the first time he came in. He motioned to the glass case on the desk. “Brought somethin’ Minho wants to show you guys today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Minho, </span>
  </em>
  <span>huh?” she said with a grin. “You’re already on a first name basis?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighed, but there was still a smile on his face. “Colleagues can also be </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl started to settle in at her desk. Minho wrote his attendance question—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you going home for fall break?—</span>
  </em>
  <span>on the blackboard. Jisung, well, he just kept playing what Minho had said on a loop in his brain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Friends. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It made </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense</span>
  </em>
  <span>, seeing as how well they’d been getting along and that they’d been talking often, but he hadn’t known Minho already considered him a friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made him so happy he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>scream. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he wouldn’t. Not now, anyway, not in Minho’s classroom—not even on campus. Maybe when he got home that evening, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once everyone was settled in and all of the attendance sheets had been collected—though they didn’t do much good, considering everyone had to show up to take the test anyway—Minho got class started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before we get started,” he said, “I wanted to say that I’m proud of you guys. You’ve all done really well with participation in this unit, so I thought we’d have a bit of fun today before we start the test. Jisung has been kind enough to bring us something from the 1896 Boston Purge, which I’ll go ahead and let him tell you about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small portion of the dread in the room lifted as the students enjoyed those few extra minutes they had before the test started. Jisung didn’t feel ignored even as a few of them spent the extra time reviewing their notes; those who weren’t doing some literal last-minute cramming were listening intently to the tale he told them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little teddy bear had belonged to a vampire girl who was loved greatly by the people in her neighborhood, but when the purge began and the mobs came marching in… the locals couldn’t protect the girl and her family. And they wouldn’t let them get away with erasing her from existence, either. As soon as the girl was dead, a witch started her work to capture any remaining pieces of the girl’s spirit and funneled everything she caught into the little bear the girl always carried around. It was the witch’s way of trying to keep her alive, history supposed. The mobs were not content to just take lives, though; they raided and burned every house that had been home to a vampire. One man found the teddy bear and decided to take it for his daughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general consensus was that the fear the vampire girl had felt as she was dragged from her home was what had remained, not her spirit. From then on, non-vampire children who held her beloved bear slowly withered away, dying from forces no doctor could combat. The last victim had died fifteen years ago, at which point the bear was finally relinquished to the collection—somewhere that it wouldn’t have access to any new children. And, if anyone was wondering, the bear’s name was Sunny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a couple of questions—Why was the girl so loved? What happened to the witch? How did the witch not notice she was only catching the girl’s fear and not her spirit?—but Minho cut them off after a few minutes. He cleared his throat and said, “Alright, alright, remember that I still have to make you guys take this test. If you have any other questions about all this, write them down so you can email them or bring them in to Jisung’s office later, okay? We have to get started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a collective groan. “I’m gonna go ahead and get out of your hair,” Jisung said, carefully picking up the glass case again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you don’t want to stay and take the test with everyone?” Minho joked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t studied!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho looked like he was about to say something—then it died in his throat and he just smiled instead. “Guess that would be a problem, huh? Thanks for coming in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem. I’m happy to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mostly, he was happy to see Minho, but he wouldn’t be saying that. Ever, probably. He just wished everyone good luck on their test as he headed out the door, to which he received a few more groans. No matter the professor, it seemed, no test was redeemable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he was back in his office and that teddy bear was back in its place, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He was just a little surprised by what he found. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>They just started</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keep me company</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I might be here awhile</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Well somebody’s needy</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I have cats</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rubbed off on me</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Cats, huh?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How many?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Three</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.IMG_0218</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>:o</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re cute!! What’re their names?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Soonie, Doongie, Dori</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You have to say it in that order by the way </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t sound right otherwise</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Got it</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boys or girls?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re all boys</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re really well-behaved </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ve never had any trouble with them</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>They can tell you’re a good guy!!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Animals always know who they can trust and who they can’t</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You must be really nice for all three of them to love you~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I mean… I try</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes they get sick of me</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Well yeah they’re cats</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Animals are just like that &lt;/3</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Do you have pets?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or a familiar or something?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>No :(</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The apartment doesn’t allow pets and if I had a familiar I’d have to leave it at home all the time so I’d feel bad &gt;_&lt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s okay though! Seungmin is enough like a puppy that I don’t mind lololol</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Are you guys neighbors?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yep! Hyunjin, too</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Btw don’t tell him I told you this but Hyunjin hates it when people make a thing about the nymph thing so you might wanna like</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Idk. Never mention it ever again </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I try not to mention it anymore but when we met I was just really curious and I guess it left a bad impression</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh trust me I know all about that</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I got off on the wrong foot with him when we met :/ Chan ended up sorting us out because we couldn’t seem to do it ourselves</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s good at that, isn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s also good at being annoying</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh 100%</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You know what he’s not good at?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Hm?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Hiding that crush on Felix</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>ON GOD!!!!!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really thinks it’s some kind of secret lmaooo idk how to tell him he looks at Felix like he just descended from Heaven itself</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Why are our friends like this</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I wish I knew</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Are you more invested in hyunbin or chanlix</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I literally don’t give a shit as long as they all stop acting like idiots</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Fair!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Personally I’m invested in hyunbin just because Changbin might stop annoying me if he’s attached to Hyunjin all the time</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t believe you would wish that on Hyunjin</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He can handle it!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Being brought a test gotta go</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was that. Minho would be accepting the first test and probably starting to take a look at it while Jisung just sat in his office, smiling like an absolute fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiot. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Instead of doing literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything else, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Minho had texted Jisung to talk to him while he waited. He’d texted first before, too, which meant that Minho was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actively</span>
  </em>
  <span> seeking out Jisung’s company. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It really did just keep getting better. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hehehehehehe clingy little Minho</p><p>Btw I’m very very happy ppl have been enjoying this so far!!! It makes me rly happy to hear y’all like it so thank u for all the nice comments so far &lt;333</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. 7.5 || Lee Minho is Exhausted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho returns to his office after class. He has work to do, after all.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lmao this is minuscule don’t @ me I just wanted to talk about the boy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Back in his office with a folder full of tests to grade and his thermos emptied, Minho barely managed to keep himself from ramming his head through the nearest wall. It was bad enough that his students were teasing him about being on a first-name basis with Jisung, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>horror of the day was what he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung had played along and whined that he hadn’t studied for the test. And Minho had almost—</span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span>—said not to worry too much, that they could figure out something for extra credit if he failed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He meant it innocently when it popped up in his brain, he genuinely did. But he knew his students, and he knew that if he had said it, they would’ve interpreted it in a way he didn’t want to think about. He never would’ve heard the end of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was getting way too comfortable joking around with Han Jisung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So. This was his life now. He sighed and got settled at his desk; he had to input the week’s attendance and start grading those tests. There’d be time to worry about whatever was happening between him and Jisung later, preferably when he was at home and his thermos was full again for some stress-drinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time he brought it in, one of the students jokingly asked if it was full of blood. It was obvious they hadn’t expected him to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Most of his students this semester weren’t actually vampires, so how would they know that it got harder for vampires to function in the cold winter months? Having something to drink on hand gave them more energy and made it all just a bit more bearable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t believe he still forgot that the kids who came into his classroom really didn’t know as much about vampires as any of them thought they did. It never failed to catch him off guard. Maybe it was just because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> one, but… well, this was why he became a teacher, right? To teach them about the realities of vampires and their history? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was exhausting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the best decision he’d ever made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He focused his attention back on entering attendance grades. He had a job to do, after all, and it wasn’t going to do itself. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. 8 || Lee Minho is Distracted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho visits Jisung.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It Chrimis merr Chrimis ur present is a double update w the regular 7.5 mini chapter and a Minho-centric main chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By Thursday night, Minho was regretting assigning that test. He had promised his students that he’d have them all graded and ready to hand back on Monday and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but getting there was </span>
  <em>
    <span>killing </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Normally it wouldn’t be much of a problem to get through all these, but the university required short essay answers on half of all tests per class—and for some reason, he was having a harder time than usual getting through them. Out of thirty-two students, he still had ten to go. Staring at the stack of papers in front of him, this was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>last </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing he wanted to be doing right now. He’d really rather be…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he told himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He would be a good fucking responsible adult and do his job no matter how much it sucked. He would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>let himself get preoccupied thinking about Jisung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he just couldn’t help it. Maybe… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>You home?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah what’s up</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m just</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to grade these tests and I can’t focus on them very well</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was wondering if I could come over </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe I just need some company to get through them </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s okay to say no I’ll live I just thought it might be fun</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t mind! Sounds good to me :&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Do you have the complex address?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah I’ve been over to Seungmin’s</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which unit are you?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>614!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>See you in a bit :D</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah, this was the stupidest shit he’d done all semester. That knowledge didn’t stop him from packing the remaining tests into his bag and going to get in his car, though. It didn’t stop him from driving to the apartment complex or walking up to Jisung’s door at eight o’clock, long after the sun had gone down for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he knocked on Jisung’s door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a muffled call of, “Coming!” from inside the apartment. He nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other, briefly considering running away while he still had the chance. The door opened before he could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath caught in his throat as Jisung grinned and said </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was used to seeing Jisung by now, sure, but not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Jisung he was used to seeing was always well put together with his styled hair, his face smoothed over with a bit of foundation, his long-sleeved and high-necked black outfits, his pretty silver accessories—all of it. The man standing in front of him was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Jisung. This Jisung looked… </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was adorable with his dark hair still damp and messy from a shower, a towel draped around his shoulders, wearing a slightly too large white tank top and some loose sweatpants. He’d never seen that mole on Jisung’s cheek before, either. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And, theoretically, Minho was a grownass man who should have been able to just look him in the eyes without panicking. In reality, though, he wasn’t sure if he was more entranced by the exposed crook of Jisung’s neck or his fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>arms. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Under all those layers of dark clothes was a respectable amount of muscle—something Minho </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>hadn’t been expecting. He knew he was being a dumbass, wordlessly standing there for a moment too long, but his brain had short circuited the moment that door opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung didn’t seem to realize </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>Minho was standing there like a deer in headlights. “Old-fashioned vampire rules?” he asked with a teasing look on his face. “Do I have to invite you in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. “Ah, no, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I’m just fuckin’ with you. Come on in, though. It’s cold,” Jisung said, standing off to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho hadn’t even realized. Now that he mentioned it, though, there was a chill in the air. He slipped into the apartment and slid off his shoes while Jisung closed the door behind him. “Thanks for letting me come over,” Minho said as he followed Jisung down the short entrance hall into his living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shrugged and flopped down onto his couch as soon as he was back in the room. “It’s no problem. I know it can be easier to get stuff done when you’re with someone. Coffee table’s all yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho just nodded and thanked him, dropping his bag down on the table. He could do this. He could focus on his fucking work. This was not a mistake. He did not screw himself over by asking if they could hang out. One question at a time, he would get through grading these tests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Correct. Correct. Correct. Correct. Incorrect. Correct. Written answer, half points, didn’t include location or date. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was easy. He was good at his job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed to stay focused until he got to the short essay question at the end of the test. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Born in the 1730s…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes wandered away from the page in front of him. For a good few moments, he glanced around the apartment living room. It was neat, but in a rushed sort of way—like it might have been messy before Minho came over. There was hardly any empty wall space, all occupied by photos and diagrams, random decorations and sigils, the only gap in the chaos leaving room for a wall-mounted TV. The overhead light kept the room well lit, but candles on the table under the TV still burned. It was cozy and warm, just the kind of place he could imagine someone like Jisung living in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung, who was stretched out on the couch with his phone turned sideways in his hand as he watched something with the volume down low. That bare face, that messy hair, the way he smiled whenever something happened in the video he was watching…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung glanced over at Minho. Minho looked back down at the test, but he knew he’d been caught. “You bored over there?” Jisung asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was one way to put it. “Yeah. I just…” He sighed. “What’re you watching?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, there’s this YouTuber I like who keeps rabbits, and she just uploaded a feeding video with the little one, and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so cute!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He scrambled off the couch and knelt by Minho, his elbows on the table as he held the phone for Minho to see. He rewound the video about a minute and a half and let it play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, the rabbit was cute. Jisung was cuter.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Loser, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he told himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you watch a lot of pet videos?” Minho asked as the video ended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? I watch </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jisung exited the video and flipped back to his subscriptions page. “I’m subscribed to, like, a hundred and fifty channels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I don’t watch all of them all the time, but they all post something I like to watch. See, look, this one is an American coven that does a lot of nature-based rituals. This one posts stupid conspiracy theories and, seriously, they’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>great </span>
  </em>
  <span>pick-me-up when you need something to laugh at. Oh, oh, and this one! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> this one, he posts </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>funny movie reviews. And this one—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cute,” Minho said softly, not at all meaning to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung looked over at him. “Hm? What is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>he must’ve been as red as a fucking tomato. “I—Just—You seem really excited about this stuff. It’s… it’s cute,” he muttered lamely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Without any makeup to cover it, the blush that rose on Jisung’s cheeks was more than just the vague dusting of red he was used to seeing. He was so genuinely adorable Minho didn’t know what to do with himself. “Sorry,” Jisung said, looking back down at his phone. “I, uh, I don’t… I’m not really good at holding back. God, I’ve unloaded so much on you since we started hanging out, haven’t I? About the magic and this and that and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What? “No, no, it’s nothing bad,” Minho was quick to assure him, not at all wanting to see how he was going to end that sentence. “I’m not trying to tease you or anything, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m not. Don’t—Don’t ever apologize for being yourself around me. I’m glad you’re comfortable enough with me to just… let it all out. It’s endearing, seriously, nothing to be embarrassed about. I enjoy hearing you talk about the things you love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That last confession either didn’t sink in or just wasn’t as big of a deal to Jisung as it was to Minho. Jisung just smiled softly and said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Endearing? </span>
  </em>
  <span>You sound like an old man. God, who talks like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Old men, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh. What am I thinking, hanging out with old men?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I think I have a silver fox sort of charm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung rolled his eyes. His smile only grew. “Dude. Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho bumped Jisung with his shoulder and said, “You started it the moment you told me I looked good for my age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung groaned loudly. “I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>that was gonna come back to bite me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took absolutely every shred of self-control Minho possessed to not make a joke along the lines of, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s not the only thing that’ll bite you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wasn’t confident enough for that yet. Instead, he looked back to the test in front of him. He felt… better. Calmer. More focused, like he really had just needed Jisung’s company to snap his mind back into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you… can you stay down here with me?” he asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t mind. But why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Having you next to me makes everything feel easier. Like I was always meant to have you there. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Easier to check out whatever you’re watching when I get bored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung took a moment to stretch, then properly settled in next to Minho. “No problem. Anything in particular you want for background noise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m just happy to be with you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Nah. Whatever you wanna watch is fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was only vaguely aware of Jisung choosing a video as he fell back into the rhythm of grading, even managing to get through that short essay question without much trouble. Jisung’s presence really did just make everything easier somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho knew he probably just wanted to look like a cool, hardworking guy in front of him. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that being with him </span>
  <em>
    <span>helped, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and a comfortable silence stretched out between them as they went about their business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was a Heaven, Minho thought, this was it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In all seriousness, I will be covering the winter holiday season in future chapters! It’ll be... definitely a bit behind real-world schedule, but it’ll happen! For now, I hope y’all enjoyed this little fall break meetup~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. 8.5 || Han Jisung is Content</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, Min—” The question Jisung was about to ask died in his throat. Minho was slouched over, his arms crossed on the table and his head resting on them, very obviously asleep with his glasses all askew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made sense. It was past midnight, and Minho had been working hard the whole time. Of course he had gotten tired. He must’ve just laid his head down for a few moments while Jisung wasn’t looking, and then he just… fell asleep. That happened. That was a totally, completely, one-hundred-percent </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing that happened sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t stop Jisung’s heart from feeling like it was going to explode out of his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung had—mostly—gotten used to seeing Minho. He was seriously </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous, </span>
  </em>
  <span>a living, breathing statue of an ancient god, lovingly carved by hand and </span>
  <em>
    <span>blessed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His face was sharp in all the right places, he knew just how to dress his body, he carried himself with unshakable confidence… Minho’s appearance could be easily described as </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not now, though, not as he slept on Jisung’s coffee table. It was like all the sharpness faded from his features, leaving him soft and vulnerable in a way Jisung hadn’t thought possible. He fought the strong urge to reach over and brush that little piece of hair away from  Minho’s face or, on a more practical level, slide the glasses off his face. He didn’t want to wake him up, not if he was tired enough to pass out right then and there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As quietly as he could manage, Jisung stood up and crept into the hallway. He grabbed a nice soft blanket from the linen closet and softly shut the door, way more aware of how much noise he made than he usually was. When he got back to the living room, Minho was still sleeping soundly. Carefully, gently, he draped the blanket over Minho’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he didn’t wake up on his own soon, Jisung would try to move him to the couch so he’d be more comfortable as he slept. And if he did wake up on his own… well, that was fine too, as long as he knew he could stay the night if he wanted. For now, Jisung was perfectly content to let him sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gay people........</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. 9 || Han Jisung Doesn’t Want to Push His Luck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho offers to pay for coffee, and Jisung obviously isn’t going to turn down that offer.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Jisung finally woke up well into the afternoon and ambled out of his bedroom, he found the apartment empty. Minho and his things were gone, the blanket he’d draped over him neatly folded on the couch. The only thing out of place was a stray piece of paper still laying on the coffee table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yawned rather loudly as he walked over to pick it up. It was a short note, written in small, precise handwriting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I have some things to do today, so I had to leave early. Thank you for letting me crash on your couch, and sorry about that. I didn’t realize I was that tired. Coffee’s on me next time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was a little doodle of a sleepy cat at the end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>keeping this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he was sitting down with a bowl of cereal to flip through the TV channels, he sent Minho a text. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank you for folding the blanket &lt;3</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin</b>
</p><p>
  <span>If you tell anyone I passed out at your place I’ll kill you ♡</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Namely Chan and Changbin</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They won’t let me live it down</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Lololololol don’t worry I wasn’t planning on it ♡</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did you sleep well?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah actually</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Always do!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when can I claim that free coffee?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Uhhh</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever I’m not in class or official office hours</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re the one with the unpredictable schedule you tell me</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Hmm lemme check</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tuesday around one?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Works for me</span>
</p><p>
  <span>See you then</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>See you! ^w^</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not for the first time, Jisung found himself wishing that it was a date. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Jisung was pulling on his jacket, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called, even though he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted to tell whoever it was to go away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In popped Jeongin, and suddenly he wasn’t so mad anymore. “Seungmin asked me to come get some stuff and I thought I’d check in on you while I was here,” he said. That wasn’t unusual at all. Jeongin was essential to Seungmin, being his precious teacher’s assistant who helped him collect materials and grade the tests of the hundred students in his class. And Jeongin was precious, so Jisung never minded when he came to visit while he was running one of his errands. “You going somewhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m about to go have coffee with Minho, actually. He’ll probably be waiting out front.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Mind if I walk with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he had tried, Jisung couldn’t have held back from smiling. “Sure.” As he locked up the office, he asked, “So what did Seungmin want you to get?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin raised the folder in his hand. “Just some documents about the Tokyo Interspecies Relations Act.” He was all too quick to steer the conversation away from him. “I’m surprised to see you leaving the office in the middle of the day, though. You really like Minho, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ,” Jisung muttered. “I mean—yeah? We’re friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin chuckled quietly. “Right, right. Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. Just that you’ve never left work to go hang out with any of your </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>friends before.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all clicked into place. “Seungmin asked you to spy on me since you were gonna be here anyway, didn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin paused. Then, “Not in so many words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung groaned. “What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>with </span>
  </em>
  <span>you people? Seriously! Nobody has ever cared this much about any of my relationships!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone’s just… emotionally invested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys are our friends. We’re rooting for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rooting for </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone knows that you like him, Jisung,” Jeongin said as they approached the library doors. “You suck at hiding it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Jeongin timed it perfectly on purpose. He said with such conviction that Jisung liked Minho, then opened the doors and stepped outside—right into Minho’s line of sight, where Jisung </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>couldn’t argue it. Not that there was really anything to argue without him being a total </span>
  <em>
    <span>liar. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Anyway,” the younger man said, “you guys have a nice afternoon! I’m gonna get this stuff back to Seungmin.” He waved at both of them as he walked away, a stupid smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung did his best to shake it off even as Minho said, “He looks awfully happy today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried his best to play it off with a casual, “I guess somethin’ good must’ve happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho, thankfully, wasn’t bothered enough by it to keep speculating. He just smiled and Jisung and asked, “So, you ready to go get that coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding?” Jisung scoffed. “I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>born </span>
  </em>
  <span>ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to reach out and grab Minho’s hand as they walked. He wanted Minho to wrap his arm around his shoulders again, to just be </span>
  <em>
    <span>close</span>
  </em>
  <span>—but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He kept his hands tightly fisted in his pockets, walking alongside Minho like he was fine with the fact that he wasn’t brave enough to make a move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was fine. It was all okay. He was happy to be friends with Minho, he really was, so he wasn’t going to push his luck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nope. He’d just mind his business, even though it felt an awful lot like a date with the way Minho held the café door open for him and ordered for him and paid for him and chose the table for them and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coffee was like a swift kick to the brain, at least temporarily pulling Jisung out of that weird headspace he was in. They sat at a quiet corner table, far away from even the nearest of the other customers. The privacy was nice, but Jisung couldn’t help but wonder why Minho picked this one. He usually wanted to sit by the window, so…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, shit. “Your eyes are a bit redder than usual,” he noticed. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho took a drink of his coffee and sighed. “Yeah, I’m alright. I just… drank the last of my supply on Saturday night and the next shipment won’t get in until Sunday.” He scoffed at himself, the noise full of scorn. “I’m usually better at making it last. I don’t know what happened this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Minho was in the same boat as most of the other vampires Jisung knew. While it was always preferable for them to have a willing </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal</span>
  </em>
  <span> donor—usually a romantic partner, but it wasn’t uncommon for the donor to just be a friend—, the reality was that a lot of them just… didn’t. It was also </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>illegal for a vampire to bite someone without consent, so their species had been forced to adapt to the modern world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, they had to get registered with government programs that provided regular shipments of blood. The pay for being a donor to the programs was </span>
  <em>
    <span>insanely </span>
  </em>
  <span>good, so while the programs never really had trouble keeping up with the vampires under their jurisdictions, they also couldn’t go overboard and keep large backlogs. Considering how generous they had to be to get regular donors, it would be entirely too expensive to buy more blood than they actually needed per shipment period just to stock up. It all amounted to deliveries every two weeks and the hope that the receiving vampires could ration their own shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… are you sure you’ll be okay?” Jisung asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine, really. I think I just stress drank too much while I was working on those fucking tests and didn’t realize it. It’s only a few more days. I’m not gonna snap and try to drain anyone before Sunday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I know, I just meant… mentally, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s gotta be stressful, right? I know vampires can go a while without feeding, but don’t you get agitated when you can’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho tried to shrug it off. “Yeah, kind of, but I’m a grown man. I can handle it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you sat us so far away from everyone else?” Jisung asked quietly. “Like… were you worried other people might get on your nerves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah… there’s not really a reason for it,” Minho replied, but he hardly looked convinced of his own words. Jisung wondered if he was just trying to save face, to seem like he was more impervious to getting irritated than he really was. “I just thought it’d be nice back here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure. He didn’t believe it, but he’d go along with it. “Gotcha. But if there’s anything I can do to help, like a brew or a charm or something if you need an energy boost, let me know, alright? I’m happy to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely </span>
  </em>
  <span>meant it. Helping the people he cared about was one of his favorite things about being a witch; no matter how old-fashioned some people were, no matter how </span>
  <em>
    <span>afraid </span>
  </em>
  <span>of him they could be as soon as they found out which branch of magic he was in, he could always help someone. So when Minho nodded and accepted that offer, saying he’d definitely reach out if he needed anything, Jisung couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pure </span>
  <em>
    <span>joy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Being a witch was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Which reminded him… “I’ll make you something for Yule next month, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—You don’t have to do that, y’know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. But we’re friends, right? What kind of person would I be if I didn’t make something for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, if you really wanna get me something, you could just throw a pack of socks at me and I’d be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung huffed. “That’s not in the spirit of things!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s basically Christmas for witches, right?” Minho asked. “I always end up with socks for Christmas anyway. It’d make it easier on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, Jisung would go off on some hour-long rant about how Christmas was basically just a Yule ripoff like </span>
  <em>
    <span>most </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the holidays non-witches celebrated. This time, he just sighed heavily and said, “Not really, but if that’s the best way you can relate to it, sure. But it’s more </span>
  <em>
    <span>special </span>
  </em>
  <span>to give gifts that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>made. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I wouldn’t do something like buying anyone fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>socks.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For whatever reason, Minho seemed to be purposefully avoiding looking Jisung in the eye. “Fine,” he muttered. Was he… embarrassed? “Just—don’t waste too much energy. Is there anything you want for Christmas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To hold your hand. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Like five cheesecakes would do it for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Five?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Minho repeated incredulously. “What’re you gonna do, eat ‘em one after the other?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, yeah,” Jisung said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Who do you think I am? I’m no coward. I’d eat </span>
  <em>
    <span>ten</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but that’d be too expensive, so. Five’s my limit for money spent on cheesecakes at one time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So maybe he was exaggerating just a bit. His stomach couldn’t handle that, but the laugh he got from Minho was definitely worth it. “You… I’ll keep that in mind when I go Christmas shopping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think Chan’s gonna have another Christmas thing this year?” Jisung asked. Chan had been hosting holiday parties for years now, but Jisung had yet to actually go to one. He felt bad about it, he really did, but he just wasn’t sure he had it in him to go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>Christmas party. A bunch of stolen traditions rebranded to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>marketable </span>
  </em>
  <span>to wider society… it got under his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he was being petty. The readaptation of those traditions was ancient history, all of it happening </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>before he was born, so it shouldn’t have bothered him. But it did. It always did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho just shrugged. “Probably. Are you gonna go if he does?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… maybe? I’m not sure.” Jisung took a drink of his coffee. “I’m glad people have fun at holiday parties and everything, but I usually just prefer to hang out at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. If that gets lonely, I’ll come over,” Minho offered. “I mean—if you want. I’ve never celebrated Yule, so I’d like to see what all you do if you don’t feel like being totally alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For God’s sake. Every time Jisung thought he couldn’t like Minho any more than he already did, the guy would go and say something sappy and cute like that and prove him </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong. </span>
  </em>
  <span>One of these days he was seriously going to snap and just start </span>
  <em>
    <span>screaming. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not now, though. For now, he just smiled a genuine smile and said, “That sounds like fun.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tag yourself I’m Jisung gonna start screaming eventually</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. 10 || Han Jisung Follows Through</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho visits Jisung’s apartment again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No half chapter this time just straight into the shenanigans ✨</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In fact, Minho spent the next <em> month </em>proving time and time again that, yes, there was always room for Jisung to like him just a little bit more. By the time the start of Yule rolled around, they never went more than twenty-four hours without talking, be it in person or over the phone. Since the night Minho passed out at Jisung’s place, he’d been coming over pretty regularly to watch movies or just hang out while he graded things. Of course, Jisung had also been to Minho’s place a couple times, during which he discovered that Minho’s cats really liked him. According to Minho, that made him a keeper—no pun on his job title intended. </p><p>Eventually it all resulted in the rest of their friends teasing them mercilessly about how they’d become joined at the hip. </p><p>And Jisung wouldn’t have it any other way. </p><p>So when Minho showed up at Jisung’s house on the second night of Yule with a backpack slung over his shoulder, it was no surprise. Finals had been done with computer-graded scantrons and school had let out for winter break, so Minho was free until the start of the next semester midway through January. Jisung still had to go to campus to check on the collection, as per usual, but he had <em> more </em>than enough free time to just laze around. </p><p>Which was what Minho was there to do with him. Jisung had meticulously tidied the apartment in preparation. Maybe they were too old for sleepovers, but fuck it, right? They made up the couch for Jisung—he had offered his bed to Minho, of course; he wasn’t going to make the guy he liked so much sleep on the couch or the floor or anything—and plopped themselves down in front of it, some random Netflix horror movie playing on the TV. </p><p>“Y’know,” Minho said about ten minutes into the movie, “I didn’t take you for the type to watch horror movies during your winter holiday season.”</p><p>“You kidding? It’s <em> always </em>horror movie season if you’re not a coward.” He decided not to tell Minho just how long it had taken him to really warm up to horror movies. But that didn’t matter, not so long as he was interested in them now. “What about you? Aren’t you supposed to be gearing up for Christmas in a couple days?”</p><p>Minho’s gaze wandered away from the movie, drifting over the very obviously homemade decorations Jisung had put up around the living room. “I don’t like Christmas movies,” he admitted. “They just… don’t appeal to me.”</p><p>“That’s fair,” Jisung replied. “I don’t really watch them either. The whole Christmas thing just… kinda ticks me off.”</p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>Jisung chuckled and asked, “Are you sure you want to have this conversation?”</p><p>Minho angled himself a bit to the side to better focus on Jisung. “I would genuinely love to know why Christmas pisses you off.”</p><p>“Because the whole fucking thing was stolen!” Jisung exclaimed, though he was careful not to raise his voice too much. He had neighbors, after all. “Literally all the shit people do for Christmas was stolen. Christmas is a pagan holiday whether people want to admit it or not, and they never do! They never want to admit it!” He sighed. “A lot of witches these days have more… <em> popular </em> religious beliefs. But a lot of us still have those old <em> pagan </em> beliefs. And our traditions were stolen and rebranded to be more palatable and <em> marketable </em> to outsiders, humans. It’s just… it’s <em> frustrating. </em> I know I shouldn’t let it bother me so much, but—”</p><p>“You have every right to be upset about that,” Minho interrupted before Jisung could go any further. He must have realized Jisung was about to start whining about himself, about how he wished he was able to just let it go. “Don’t feel bad about, well, the way you feel. It’s hard, isn’t it? Watching the way humans take things from us, the way they portray us… I get it. You don’t have to try to justify yourself to me.”</p><p>Jisung sighed again, softly this time, and leaned over to rest his head on Minho’s shoulder. It wasn’t unusual. Over the past few weeks, they’d gotten perfectly comfortable being close to each other like that. “It’s bullshit,” he muttered. “It’s such <em> bullshit. </em>”</p><p>“I know it is. I know.” Minho reached up to soothingly rub Jisung’s back. He didn’t need to say anything else. Jisung knew that Minho understood him—and he knew that Minho was on his side, even if it didn’t personally affect him. The same way Jisung was on his side about the stupid ways vampires were shown in media, the way people still distrusted them based on something they had absolutely no choice about. </p><p>Neither of them would ever truly <em> know </em>what it was like to be the other in this shitty human-centered world. But they could be there for each other, and that was enough. </p><p>Almost. Being close friends was great, it was. Jisung was <em> comfortable </em> with Minho in a way he wasn’t really used to feeling. He always looked forward to seeing him, to being near him, to hearing his voice, and he always felt like it was worth the wait when they finally met up again. Being able to lean against him, to have him casually throw his arm around Jisung’s shoulders as they walked, even offering each other food from their own forks… it all felt so safe, so natural, so <em> good. </em>But it wasn’t quite enough, not really. Not so long as Jisung wanted to hold Minho’s hand, to snuggle up against him at night, to kiss him. To tell him he loved him. </p><p>But that was stupid. </p><p>It was way too fucking stupid. </p><p>He hadn’t doubted Felix or anything when he said that Minho <em> did </em> like guys, but he had gone ahead and gotten the personal confirmation not long after that. It was good to know and made him just a bit more comfortable, it did, but just because Minho liked guys didn’t mean he liked <em> Jisung. </em> It didn’t mean he’d <em> ever </em> like Jisung. And, seriously, why would he? Jisung was plenty confident in himself; his self-esteem wasn’t the problem. The problem was that, even though Jisung knew that he was decently handsome, Minho was <em> godly. </em>Why would he bother to date someone who wasn’t also at that level?</p><p>Not to mention the fact that Minho just seemed so much more… mature. It wasn’t like Jisung wasn’t mature, of course, it was just that Minho had a certain aura about him—he was put-together and wise, with all those proverbial ducks in a row. Most of the time, Jisung felt like his proverbial ducks were too busy chasing people around trying to get some bread. At work, he was always calm and collected, focused on what he needed to do and perfectly capable of seeing it done. When he wasn’t working… he was just, well, <em> him. </em> And he wasn’t sure that <em> he </em>was really a viable option for someone like Minho. </p><p>So it was stupid. It was probably just a hopeless crush, so he’d just keep doing what he’d <em> been </em>doing: Pretending it didn’t exist. </p><p>Pretending he was completely content with just being friends. </p><p>Minho startled Jisung out of his thoughts with a sudden, “Well <em> that’s </em>bullshit!”</p><p>Jisung looked back up to the movie. “What happened? I wasn’t paying attention.”</p><p>“There’s no <em> way </em> he survived that crash! That man should be <em> dead. </em>”</p><p>Jisung found himself smiling as they readjusted to face the TV again, though he didn’t intend on lifting his head from Minho’s shoulder. Sure, he wanted more than this, but right now, it was good enough. <br/><br/>It had to be.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The movie had ended an hour ago, and instead of picking a new one, both of them were hunched over Jisung’s phone to watch videos from his seemingly endless subscriptions list. They were halfway through a gift wrapping video when it finally sunk in that, yeah, it was Yule and Jisung had made something for Minho and Minho was <em> there.  </em></p><p>“I’ve gotta give you the thing,” he said out of nowhere, earning a slightly confused look in response. “Remember? I said I’d make you something for Yule. And I did. And I’ve gotta give it to you.”</p><p>The sudden red tint on Minho’s cheeks didn’t go unnoticed, but Jisung knew better than to draw attention to it. “Ah,” Minho said, seemingly not wanting to look Jisung in the eye. “You actually did that?”</p><p>“Of course I did!” He hopped to his feet, then dragged Minho up with him. “Come on, come with me.”</p><p>Minho did as he was told. He didn’t put up a fight as Jisung dragged him into his short little hallway. His apartment was small, the door to his bedroom opening up to a full view of the living room, a little bathroom next to his room, and a spare room across the hall from that. It was meant to be an ordinary office or something, he guessed, but he had decided upon moving in that it would be the <em> perfect </em>place to do all his magic stuff. </p><p>He didn’t usually <em> show </em>people his little magic room. It was messy and cluttered with his altar under the window and the shelves full of books and supplies, stacks of journals he’d filled over the years and boxes full of old notes… but he opened the door and let Minho in, saying a casual, “Just don’t knock anything over, okay?” But once the door was shut behind them again, Jisung froze. </p><p>He didn’t usually show people this room.</p><p>And Minho was standing in the middle of it, looking around at his mess with wide eyes. </p><p>Just when Jisung was starting to get <em> really </em>nervous, the corner of Minho’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “This is so cool,” he said. “Seriously. You do all your witch stuff here?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah? I mean—it’s a mess, though.”</p><p>Minho reached for the nearest stack of journals and picked one off the top, opening it and flipping through the pages. “What <em> is </em>all this stuff?”</p><p>Jisung walked over to stand by Minho. “This one is mostly just experimental sigils and stuff.” He grabbed the next journal—a rather small one—off the pile and opened to a random page. “I used this one over the summer when I was trying out different moon cycle charms.”</p><p>“What’s that? A moon cycle charm, I mean.”</p><p>“Nothing special. It’s like, if you have something to do around the time of a full moon, you start carrying the charm with you during the new moon. The energy of the moon filling out links with the charm and, I dunno, hypes you up?” He shrugged and closed the notebook again. “They aren’t very practical since the timing has to be precise, but they’re fun to play with.”</p><p>Minho returned the journal he was holding to the pile, then walked over to one of the wooden bookcases that lined the room. The one he stood in front of was full of glass jars and vials, some big and some small, all with different labels on them. “Egg shells?” he asked, pointing at one of the jars. “What do you use those for?”</p><p>“They’re good for protection spells. With the whole, y’know, <em> shell </em>thing.”</p><p>Minho nodded and continued looking. Jisung’s heart <em> filled </em> each time he pointed to a new material and asked what it was for, each time he looked over a piece of paper or flipped through a reference book. Minho wasn’t a witch. He couldn’t harness magic the way Jisung could. But watching him carefully look through the shelves with that wonder in his eyes and asking such genuine questions with that smile on his face, Jisung couldn’t help but feel like Minho belonged there. </p><p>With him. </p><p>While Minho was busy looking through some small cases of crystals, Jisung made his way to his altar and knelt down in front of it. It was situated on a low table under the only window in the room, through which he usually got a perfect view of the moon—just the sort of place he felt most comfortable doing his work. But he didn’t need to do any work right now. No, he just wanted to get to the little box he kept underneath the table. It usually just contained extras of the things he used the most in his work so they’d be close, but right now there was a little something else in there. Something he <em> really </em>hoped Minho would like. </p><p>He held out the little white organza bag and cleared his throat. “Here,” he said, putting all of his effort into not sounding as nervous as he felt. He wouldn’t be like this with anyone else and he knew it—but he hadn’t <em> felt </em>like this about anyone else, so his inherent desire to please was raging out of control. </p><p>Minho turned and his gaze fell to the little bag. “This is what you made for me?” he asked as he gently took the bag from Jisung and opened it. </p><p>“It’s not much,” Jisung said. He watched as Minho took the charm out of the bag and looked at it with that smile still on his face, but still, he couldn’t quite shake those nerves. “It’s just—you can put it on your bag or whatever, since you always take it to school with you. It should help you stay energized longer. Y’know, since—since you have so much stuff to take care of all the time.” </p><p>It had been all he could think of when he sat down to finally make the thing after stressing for <em> weeks </em> over what it would be for. It ended up a pointed piece of purple fluorite with a couple of sigils carved into the crystal, along with a small hole through the non-pointed end for a thin, clasped chain to slip through. It wasn’t flashy, nor was it particularly dramatic, but he had <em> damn </em>sure poured all of his heart into putting it together. He just hoped it came through. </p><p>If he was a weaker man, he <em> might </em> have started crying when Minho’s smile grew. It was the pure, elated smile he didn’t often show to anyone, but Jisung had seen it enough times to know what it meant. “This is so <em> beautiful </em>,” Minho said appreciatively, turning it over and over in his hand. “It’ll help me with my energy?”</p><p>Jisung nodded. “Uh, yeah, it should help you stay focused and stuff. If it starts to feel like it isn’t working anymore, you can soak it in salt water for a couple days to get everything realigned.” Even though Minho’s smile had relieved most of his nervousness, he still asked, “Do you—I mean, do you like it? I know it’s not much, but—”</p><p>“Are you kidding?” Minho cut him off. “Even after I told you to just get me some socks, you still… I love it, I really do. Thank you, Jisung.”</p><p>To Jisung, there was nothing that could have been more rewarding than hearing those words. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[[haha funny “see you next year” joke here]] but seriously again thank you guys so much for the support so far &lt;3 I’m kinda takin my time w their relationship so I appreciate the patience~<br/>I wanted to say, if anyone has any questions about this world and how the different species and such work, you’re more than welcome to ask me! Some things I’m planning to write into the story eventually, but I’ll happily answer any questions that I’m not sure if I’ll write about.<br/>Happy new year, everyone! 💕</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. 10.5 || Lee Minho Can’t Ignore Han Jisung</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho heads to bed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hehehehehehehehehe</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>.IMG_1782</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Look what Jisung made for me</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m gonna cry</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You know how bad I am with accepting gifts so I told him not to put any effort in but he just</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m literally gonna cry</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re not gonna cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s cute though!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But uhhhhh why are you in Jisung’s bed? I know that’s his room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I came over earlier and I’m staying the night (INNOCENTLY)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made me take his bed instead of the couch</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is stupid I’d be fine on the couch but it’s very sweet</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>
  <span>( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’M KIDDING STOP TYPING.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What’d you guys do today?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Hate you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We watched a movie and some YouTube videos</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he showed me his little magic room and gave me the charm</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And after that we ordered food and watched another movie</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He showed you his magic room?????</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah that’s what I said </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t show anyone that room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>What do you mean</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I mean you can ask literally anyone else he knows and they will all tell you they’ve never seen that room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I haven’t even seen it and I’ve been over there a million times. He must really like you, Minho.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Don’t be stupid it’s not a big deal</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re exaggerating aren’t you</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Chan</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not exaggerating. It is a big deal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hehehehe</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Have a fun rest of your sleepover~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Perish</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minho set his phone to silent and put it on Jisung’s nightstand, then turned off the light and properly settled in to try to get some sleep. Beyond the closed bedroom door, Jisung was sprawled out on the couch, having </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisted </span>
  </em>
  <span>on this arrangement. “You’re my guest!” he had exclaimed when Minho protested. “Take the bed. I’ll be fine, seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So there he was, tucked into Jisung’s bed, laying on Jisung’s pillows, covered with Jisung’s blankets… he felt vaguely like he was going to pass out, and not because he was tired. Because he was entirely enveloped in Jisung’s soft, warm scent and it was almost too much for him to handle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being a vampire and everything, Minho had a rather refined sense of smell. It was part of being, frankly, a predatory species. Historically, it helped his species pick out which of their prey were </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>—healthy with clean blood—and which weren’t. These days… well, it wasn’t very useful anymore since most vampires just used the government donor programs, but it stuck around. Jisung had that clean scent about him, the kind that said he’d be a good choice for a meal. Of course, that would depend on a very specific set of circumstances and blah blah blah, but that wasn’t the </span>
  <em>
    <span>point.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The point was that Minho just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>the blood pumping through Jisung’s veins was </span>
  <em>
    <span>good. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In spite of his nature, that wasn’t the scent he was focused on. It was his natural scent layered on top of his blood, the one that cling to his skin and made Minho feel like he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He could </span>
  <em>
    <span>easily </span>
  </em>
  <span>tolerate the alluring smell of healthy blood. He couldn’t so easily ignore the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t ignore </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the blankets up a little higher, feeling like an absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>moron </span>
  </em>
  <span>as he did. He just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, </span>
  </em>
  <span>everything about Jisung made him feel happy and comfortable. His voice, his eyes, his smile, even his scent—Minho couldn’t get enough of him. It was ridiculous. The last time he’d had a serious relationship was ages ago, and even then, he never felt like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Good things to those who wait, right? Well, he’d done his waiting, and the universe or God or the fates or </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever </span>
  </em>
  <span>had kindly dropped Han Jisung in his path. Good, perfect Han Jisung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell asleep in that cocoon of blankets, all the while wishing Jisung was there next to him. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m not saying they’re stupid in love but if the shoe fits....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. 11 || Han Jisung is Stupidly Hopeful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho makes breakfast, and Jisung feels like he’s in over his head.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jisung woke up to the sound of someone rummaging through his kitchen, which was mildly concerning in the split second before he remembered Minho had stayed the night. His eyes still closed, he took a deep breath. What time was it? Minho must have woken up </span>
  <em>
    <span>ages</span>
  </em>
  <span> ago and gotten too hungry to wait for Jisung to wake up. Sleepily, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, then looked over the back of the couch to his tiny little kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Minho was standing there with his back to Jisung. He had gathered up the jug of pancake mix from the cabinet and the associated ingredients, all of them sitting out on the counter as he searched for a pan or something to cook on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bottom drawer,” Jisung said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho almost jumped out of his own skin. “Jesus </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jisung,” he said, holding his hand over his chest like he was waiting for his heart to explode. “Good morning to you too, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung grinned. “What time is it? You’re blocking the stove clock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho had to bend over to get to the bottom drawer Jisung had directed him to anyway. It was only a little past noon, hardly as bad as Jisung had been expecting. “You sleep well?” he asked, finally finding the right pan before turning his attention to actually preparing the batter. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I would’ve slept better next to you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He mentally cursed himself for thinking some stupid gay shit like that. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jisung was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine </span>
  </em>
  <span>with that, he told himself. He. Was. Fine. With. That. “I had some weird fuckin’ dreams,” he admitted, “but yeah, I did. You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t complain. Seriously, you didn’t need to give me your bed. I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—That sounds like a complaint,” Jisung interrupted, smiling when he got a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>from Minho. “I mean, what can I say? I’m a very nice guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho rolled his eyes and went back to making breakfast. “Your cabinets are atrocious. When was the last time you organized them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s adorable that you think I have the patience to organize anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do great at work, though!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, but that’s work! It doesn’t count. Home is… different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does count! You’re just too stubborn to admit it,” Minho said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Why do you always talk like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the time they’d known each other, Minho had never been genuinely mad at Jisung, and he could tell that he wasn’t mad at him now. But for some reason, those words made his blood run cold. “I—What do you mean?” he willed himself to ask. “Talk like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While focusing on his task of making breakfast, Minho sighed and said, “You talk like work Jisung and home Jisung are completely different people, and like only work Jisung is respectable. Like nothing home Jisung does can compare to work Jisung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pit formed in his stomach. “That’s—I don’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did, though. He knew he did. As much as he and Minho hung out, Jisung was the only one who knew exactly what was going on in that brain of his all the time. More often that he would have liked, he found himself dwelling on the things he was lacking. Maybe that was why he threw so much of himself into the things he was confident in—it was easier to ham it up than it was to face just how much improving he still had to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>say </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. He just… needed to get better at pretending to be self-assured all the time so Minho wouldn’t worry about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do,” Minho insisted, “and it’s bullshit. You at work and you at home aren’t separate entities. They’re both </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>do way better than you think you do. Your problem isn’t that you can’t do things, Jisung. It’s that you compartmentalize too much and convince yourself that one of your perceived versions of yourself is inherently better than the other so you build it up in your head that you can’t compare to him. You have to stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span> shit like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ, what are you, my therapist?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho looked over his shoulder. “I’m your friend, and I care about you. That’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung practically melted. The fight drained out of him and he just sighed, crossing his arms on the back of the couch and resting his head on top of them. “I know, I just…” he trailed off, not entirely sure where he was going with that sentence. He wasn’t sure there was anywhere he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>take it without being completely embarrassing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho flipped the pancakes he was working on, then left the stove for a brief moment to walk over to the couch and ruffle Jisung’s hair. “Dumbass,” he said softly, his eyes kind and gentle in a way that made Jisung feel like a puddle of mush. “You know I’m always here if you need to talk, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thank you, really. For everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho reassuringly squeezed Jisung’s shoulder. “Anytime.” His hand lingered there for what seemed to be a beat too long compared to normal—but it still wasn’t long enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho didn’t even make it back to the stove before Jisung was missing that hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And then he left after breakfast and we’re gonna go to Chan’s stupid Christmas Eve thing tomorrow,” Jisung finished. He was sitting on Seungmin’s couch, whining to his friends about his </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy problems, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Seungmin had so lovingly dubbed his current situation. “So. I just. I dunno. What do you guys think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure what you want from us,” Seungmin said. “It’s all pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like him and he likes you, obviously,” Hyunjin said before Seungmin could. There was a stupid smile on his face—not teasing, but not completely innocent, either. “It’s not hard to figure out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t be stupid. I know that’s hard for you, but try, alright? He doesn’t like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Felix chimed in from where he sat playing a game on his phone. “It sounds to me like he likes you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Jisung said, thinking that Felix couldn’t even tell that Chris was head-over-heels for him so </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>could he think he could tell anything about what Minho thought of Jisung, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>my friends are stupid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin shrugged. “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>stupid, so it would make sense. But not this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it pained him, Jisung ignored the shallow dig. “I think you guys are just projecting because you want me to shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin stood up from where he sat next to Felix, walked over to Jisung, and planted his hands firmly on his shoulders. “Jisung,” he said, “we’ve known each other a long time. You know that if I only wanted you to shut up, I’d just tell you to shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also,” Seungmin interjected, “what was the point of asking us what we think if you were just going to shoot it all down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m stupid, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aside from that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung sighed and shook off Hyunjin’s hands, flopping over onto his side. “I am stupid though, aren’t I? Getting my hopes up over all this. I’m trying to keep them all under control, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix laid his phone on the floor and crawled over. “Why would it be stupid to be hopeful?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, because I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>obviously. Haven’t you been listening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix reached up and delivered an absolutely devastating </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Jisung’s forehead. While Jisung whined about how it hurt and covered his forehead with his hands, Felix said, “The most stupid thing about you right now is that you think it’s stupid to hope the guy you like likes you back. You’re usually so much more confident about approaching people you’re interested in. You just need to gather up some of that courage and talk to him about it. Your relationship, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still rubbing his sore forehead, Jisung rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. It sounded so </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy </span>
  </em>
  <span>in theory—stop doubting himself, tell Minho how he felt without fear. But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It just </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>something he could do. It was in his blood to get all up in his head and wonder if he was doing well enough, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>considering that so many people in the magic world looked to him for knowledge and guidance. It was his nature to flip flop back and forth between </span>
  <em>
    <span>obnoxiously confident </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupidly shy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and when it came to the prospect of confessing to Minho, he was firmly in the latter state of mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While it felt like his relationship with Minho was always getting better, the prospect of telling him how he felt never got easier. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. 12 || Han Jisung is Cute</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung finds himself at Chan’s Christmas party.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pretend it’s not several weeks after Christmas &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chan had gone all out. He owned a house in one of the nicer neighborhoods in town, and being a popular guy among the university staff, he had invited plenty of folks to his Christmas party. With a big, <em> real </em> tree in the living room and the kitchen absolutely full of food, it wasn’t the <em> worst </em>party Jisung had been to. But it still wasn’t exactly his sort of scene, so there he was, standing at the edge of the room with his cup of soda in hand. Minho had gotten pulled away from him almost as soon as they came in. One of the other professors Minho often talked to had wanted to introduce him to some folks. Jisung hadn’t seen him since. </p><p>He was beginning to wonder if he had died or something. </p><p>Someone leaned against the wall next to him. He glanced over for a moment, hoping that Minho had freed himself from the clutches of whatever group he had found himself sucked into, and was disappointed. His gaze dropped back down to the floor. It wasn’t Minho. It was some guy Jisung had never seen before, one of Chan’s friends he just hadn’t met. He was tall—taller than Hyunjin, even—and a bit intimidating with hard edges and a gleam in his eyes. </p><p>“This not really your thing?” the man asked. </p><p>“Not really,” Jisung admitted. It’d be rude to ignore him, even if a part of him wanted to. </p><p>The man chuckled. “The things we do for Chris, right?” </p><p>Jisung couldn’t help but nod. Really, he was there because Minho had asked if he would be okay going if they went together, but Minho only went because Chan invited him. That guy… </p><p>He didn’t fully register the man trying to introduce himself. He just knew that he <em> had </em>and that he needed to introduce himself too, so that was exactly what he did. </p><p>“So,” the man next to him said, “you’re the legendary collection keeper, aren’t you?”</p><p>Was it just his imagination, or had the guy had inched closer? He took a deep breath. He was probably just imagining it because he felt so awkward here. “I wouldn’t say <em> legendary </em>,” he said. “But, yeah, that’s me.”</p><p>“You kidding? <em> Legendary </em> is definitely the right word. Anyone who knows anything about cursed objects knows about you.” Jisung looked up to see a grin on the guy’s face. He didn’t really like it; he wasn’t <em> afraid </em> of this dude or anything, but he wasn’t exactly a fan of his vibes, either. “I’m surprised you get a moment alone.”</p><p>“What do you mean? It’s not <em> that </em>big of a deal. I’m just a regular dude.”</p><p>“You have a unique job at a prestigious university. That <em> is </em> a big deal.” That grin seemed to grow a bit—and Jisung was <em> positive </em>this time that he had gotten closer. “And you’re awfully cute.”</p><p>Oh. “Uh—thank you?” Under different circumstances, he might have tried to return the compliment. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, though, not when <em> Minho </em>was his current standard. </p><p>“You here by yourself?” the guy asked. “Just as a favor to Chris, or—?”</p><p>“I came with another friend of ours, actually,” Jisung was quick to correct. “He’s… somewhere. I’ve been waiting for him to show up again. Some other professor friend of his stole him for a bit.”</p><p>“He’d leave <em> you </em> all alone to go talk with some stuffy professors? Some friend.”</p><p>Oh, he <em> really </em>didn’t like the implication that Minho was a bad friend just because he was talking to other people. “That’s not true,” he insisted. “He’s great. He just has a few more friends. It’s not a problem or a fault or—”</p><p>“Woah, woah, hey, I’m sorry,” the guy said. “I didn’t mean any harm. I just can’t imagine leaving you by yourself for anyone else. His other friends can’t possibly be as pretty as you.”</p><p>He had ignored it the first time. He wasn’t going to ignore it this time, too. “You’re flirting with me, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Obviously. Is that a problem?” he asked. “I didn’t figure Chris was friends with a lot of straight guys, so…”</p><p>“He’s not. I’m not, but… I’m not interested. Sorry to let you down.”</p><p>The guy chuckled softly. “Should’ve known better, huh? Bet you have a boyfriend, don’t you?”</p><p>About that time, someone weaseled their way in between Jisung and the guy. Jisung’s breath caught for a split second. “Something like that,” Minho said with a sharp edge to his voice and an irritated set to his jaw. Minho looked over at Jisung with a look in his eyes that could really only be interpreted one way: <em> Play along. </em>“Why didn’t you tell me you changed your mind about coming tonight? I would’ve brought you.” He wrapped his arm around Jisung’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You aren’t avoiding me, are you?”</p><p>His brain short circuited, shut down, and restarted all in about two seconds. “You know better than that,” Jisung replied, swallowing his nerves and poking Minho in the ribs. Minho seemed to know what he was doing, so Jisung pulled himself together to play along. “Hyunjin just kinda… showed up and dragged me out of the apartment. I was gonna text you, but I left my phone at home and then I felt too awkward to go looking for you when we got here, so…”</p><p>Minho rolled his eyes. “Dork. I’m glad you’re here now, though. I can only pretend to be interested in these people for so long.” His grip tightened, pulling Jisung just that much closer and sealing the gap between their sides. “I need my cute boyfriend to keep me company.”</p><p>
  <em> Boyfriend.  </em>
</p><p>It was an act. Jisung knew that. </p><p>But, God, it sounded so <em> good.  </em></p><p>Jisung peeked around Minho. He couldn’t take much more of this, he couldn’t. He needed to know if—</p><p>“He’s gone,” he said, seeing the man crossing the room to go find someone else to talk to. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. </p><p>“Fuckin’ hell,” Minho said, releasing his hold on Jisung and stretching his arms above his head. “You looked so uncomfortable talking to him, I just… Are you okay? I’m sorry if that all was too much, I just—the look on your face, I was worried and I thought—”</p><p>“Thank you,” Jisung interrupted. He’d gone through this sort of situation enough times to know that he could have dealt with the man on his own, but the sharpness in Minho’s voice when he first approached was stuck in his head. Minho had been worried about him. Minho had thought he needed help, that he was in trouble, and he had gone all out to try to offer that help. It shouldn’t have made him so… <em> happy. </em>But it did. “You—You didn’t have to do that. Thank you, really.”</p><p>The softness in Minho’s eyes made Jisung feel like he was going to melt into a puddle right then and there. “Of course,” he said. The edge in his voice had dulled, leaving him sounding more like a comfortable pillow than a deadly knife. “I couldn’t just… ignore it when you looked like that. And, well, you saw him. He was fucking <em> huge </em>. I’d hate it if you got hurt.”</p><p>With his stomach tied in a hundred different knots, there was really only one thing Jisung could think to do to calm himself down. He had to joke his way out of this. He elbowed Minho and said, “So you think I’m cute, huh?”</p><p>Minho grinned. “I mean, you aren’t any of my cats, but you’re not <em> awful. </em>”</p><p>“You know what? I’ll take it.”</p><p>Still, he couldn’t make the scene stop replaying in his head. </p><p>
  <em> Boyfriend.  </em>
</p><p>If only.</p><p>But he didn’t have the time to dwell on it. In the next instant, Jeongin was coming over with that cuteass smile on his face, inviting them to come watch what everyone was sure would be a <em> disaster </em> of an attempt at manito some of Chan’s friends from the art department had set up. Too many of the folks in the art department were mischief makers—hobgoblins and fairies, mostly, the kind of people who were genuinely kind but also couldn’t pass up an opportunity to cause a bit of good-natured trouble. </p><p>An entire group of people like Changbin, in other words. What could go wrong?</p><p>The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur of friends and strangers, people exchanging gifts and inhaling food, laughing and poorly singing along to whatever songs came on the playlist Chan had put together for the party. It was a long evening, the kind that Jisung knew he’d remember but only in bright, colorful pieces—most of those pieces centered around one person in particular. </p><p>“This is for you,” Minho said, shoving a small package into Jisung’s hands as they walked down the driveway to Minho’s car. He had driven Jisung to Chan’s house to begin with, then the two of them had stayed after the party to help him clean up. It wasn’t like the house was trashed or anything, but with as many people as had shown up, there were more than enough plastic cups and chip crumbs to throw away. When it was all said and done, it was well past one in the morning, the rest of the cars long gone from Chan’s driveway and the curbside. </p><p>“What?” Jisung said, not really having a choice but to take it as Minho practically forced it into his hands. Practically clutching it against his chest, he asked, “You got me something? And were you seriously just carrying it in your hoodie all night?”</p><p>“I said I’d get you something when I went Christmas shopping, didn’t I? It’s not exactly several cheesecakes, though, so I hope you didn’t get your hopes up for that. And. Yeah. I was gonna give it to you while we were in there, but…” Minho wouldn’t meet Jisung’s curious gaze as he trailed off. Was the red on his cheeks a blush or from the cold? He unlocked the passenger side door for Jisung. Once they were both in the car with the heater on, Jisung already looking for the first piece of tape to rip off, Minho suddenly reached over and grabbed his wrist. “Wait until you’re home, okay?”</p><p>Jisung chuckled, then sat the gift back down on his lap. “Fine, fine. Can I ask you something, though?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course. What is it?”</p><p>“Why can’t I open it yet?”</p><p>“Because,” Minho said, “I feel really awkward and weird watching people open gifts. It’ll be easier on me if you open it alone.”</p><p>“<em> Fiiiiiiine </em>,” Jisung whined. “I’m sure I’ll love it, though, so don’t worry.”</p><p>And he was sure. It was a small package, too large to be something like a gift card and <em> hopefully </em> too small to be very expensive. He’d feel bad if Minho had bought anything expensive for him. Whatever was in that box, though, he knew he’d love it. It was from Minho, after all, and that made it special. When Minho dropped the conversation and moved on to the next, Jisung went along with it without complaint. If it made Minho more comfortable for Jisung to open his gift alone at home, he would do just that.</p><p>No matter how much he enjoyed being with Minho and talking about whatever came to mind, the wait was torture. He really, <em> really </em> wanted to know what Minho had gotten for him. By the time Minho pulled up in front of Jisung’s apartment building, he felt like he was about to absolutely <em> burst. </em> He couldn’t get inside his apartment fast enough. He couldn’t get inside that <em> box </em> anywhere <em> near </em> quickly enough.</p><p>Cross-legged on his couch, he eagerly opened the box. The first thing he saw was a piece of paper with a note written on it. <em> Jisung, I’m glad to have met and gotten to know you over the past couple of months. I’m glad we’re close these days. I remember you mentioning that you needed a few things for recordkeeping, so I hope this helps. </em> <strike><em> Merry Chr </em></strike> <em> Happy Yule. </em></p><p>Once again, there was a little drawing of a cat at the end of the note. If Jisung was any weaker for Lee Minho than he already was, he very well might have started sobbing then and there. He would, at least, be taping it to the wall somewhere. For the time being, he carefully set it to the side to peer into the box. Inside was a plain leather journal and a set of rather expensive-looking pens, both the kind of thing he kept at his office for logging collection-related happenings. He remembered in that moment that he had mentioned to Minho nearly three weeks ago that he was almost at the end of his work journal, that he’d need to get a new one before the next semester started. He had said he was going to wait until the after-Christmas sales, but… it looked like Minho had beat him to it.</p><p>He picked up the journal and turned it around in his hands for a moment, admiring the craftsmanship and the fact that Minho had remembered such an insignificant conversation, then opened the front cover to look inside. He almost missed it—the tiny, elegant handwriting on the cover page. <em> Thank you for supporting me. I hope this helps to support you, too.  </em></p><p>He’d never admit it, but he could feel the pricking of tears in his eyes as he pulled out his phone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>Thank you so much!! I love it! (⌒▽⌒)</p><p>I’ll put it to good use!~</p><p> </p><p>Some time passed before he got a response. Minho was a responsible driver, after all, and didn’t check his phone until he was safely home.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin</b>
</p><p>Glad to hear it &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>You don’t like to show it, but you’re really so thoughtful~</p><p>What a sweet guy (￣▽￣)</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin</b>
</p><p>Shut up</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>Ah, they hated him because he told them the truth…….</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin</b>
</p><p>?</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>It’s a meme don’t worry about it</p><p>But seriously</p><p>Again</p><p>Thank you so much</p><p>I’m really glad we’re close, too!!</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin</b>
</p><p>Yeah, yeah</p><p>It’s late so go to bed</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>Lololol</p><p>You too! Talk to you tomorrow ^o^</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin</b>
</p><p>Of course ^.^</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. 12.5 || Lee Minho is Not Considering Murder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chan interrupts Minho and Jeongin’s coffee meet up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Christ, Minho,” Chan said, sliding into the seat across the table from him and effectively ruining the conversation Minho had been having with Jeongin. “I thought you were gonna fucking kill a man the other night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shrugged and took a drink of his coffee. “The thought crossed my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I fuckin’ noticed!” He took a deep breath. “Don’t you think you’re in a bit too deep here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just told me you considered </span>
  <em>
    <span>murder!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, no, no I didn’t. I said the thought crossed my mind, not that I considered it. Those are two </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely </span>
  </em>
  <span>separate actions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan groaned in frustration. “Do you even realize how ridiculous you’re being?” he demanded. “You’re too scared to ask Jisung out, but then you go and get all irrationally pissed when it seems like someone else might. You realize he’s single, right? Like, you understand that? You have no right to get jealous and possessive over someone you have no claim to. Which, again, is entirely your own fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho stared hard at the table as Chan spoke, careful not to crush his plastic cup in his hand. “I’m aware,” he managed to force himself to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then do something about it!” Chan exclaimed. A few others in the café glanced over to their table at his sudden outburst. He didn’t notice, though, too caught up in staring down Minho. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having sat there silently since Chan arrived, Jeongin cleared his throat. “I don’t think yelling at him is really the best way to deal with this,” he said. “I know we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>frustrated, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan sighed heavily and slumped down in his chair. “I know,” he muttered. Jeongin was one of his youngest friends, but he could also be remarkably mature—and he always made sure his friends didn’t fight too much. “I’m sorry. It’s just… Minho, you know we all want the best for you, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho was still tense as he replied, “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why it’s so irritating,” Chan said. “You just—you light up when you’re with him, y’know? And I know you’re serious about him because you’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>been the type to be so… boldly protective, I guess. He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! And I want you to be happy with him! So when you keep avoiding your feelings and never confessing to him but then start acting like he’s already yours… that’s not healthy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho still hadn’t lifted his gaze from the table. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said. “I know it’s stupid and irrational and just… the worst. I know. But—God, can you at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see it from my perspective? This whole time you’ve just been telling me </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh go for it stop whining it’ll be fine </span>
  </em>
  <span>without considering what it’ll actually do to me if it doesn’t work out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is… is that what you think? That I’ve been disregarding your feelings this whole time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally looked up at Chan. “I know you don’t mean to. I know you think you’re helping by trying to push me into this, but it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>working.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He sighed. “It’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>so long</span>
  </em>
  <span> since I last felt anything like this about anyone. If I spill my guts and then he turns me down… I’m not ready to face that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think he’ll turn you down?” Jeongin asked. “I don’t think he would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho scoffed. “Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>joking? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Come on. He’s… what do you want, a fucking list? Smart, talented, funny, cute, thoughtful, a living fucking legend in his field… and me? I’m a dime-a-dozen professor who always seems like a jackass because I can’t really express affection the way all the rest of you do, even if I try. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why </span>
  </em>
  <span>would he say yes to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan and Jeongin shared a knowing look. There was only so much either of them could say without betraying Jisung’s trust. With that in mind, Jeongin just readjusted in his seat and said, “Jisung doesn’t think you’re a jackass. He wouldn’t hang out with you so much if he did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realistically, Minho knew that was true. Even so… he took another drink of his coffee. Everyone was always pushing him to take the chance, to just go for it and confess, and he had been holding back as much as he possibly could. It was exhausting and that exhaustion was starting to wear on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think you guys will really like what I have for the next chapter so stay tuned hehehe ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. 13 || Han Jisung is Not a Lightweight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>New Year’s rolls around.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pretend it’s not two weeks after New Years &lt;3333</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As soon as Jisung realized he was awake, he did his best to shut down and go back to sleep. He’d been having </span>
  <em>
    <span>such</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good dream, all cuddled up next to Minho and watching the stars. Out there in the real world, though, he was alone in his bed—and trying very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard to ignore the obnoxiously bright sunlight streaming through the window. After a few minutes of his unsuccessful attempt to go back to sleep, though, he groaned and sat up. He had a job to do, after all. It was December 31st and he had promised Chan he’d go to his stupid New Year’s thing tonight, so he had to go check on the collection today in case he was hung over tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Chan had first invited him, he had hesitated. Ever since the Christmas party, he had felt more assured in his decisions to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>go to these things. It had been fine overall, he guessed, but that incident with the stranger flirting with him just… it had gotten under his skin. He was a single man and he was probably holding out hope for nothing, but as long as he felt the way he did about Minho, his heart was spoken for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Chan had sworn it was a small thing for close friends and listed off the people who would be there: Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin… Minho. Oh, Chan just always had an ace up his sleeve, didn’t he? It got Jisung to sigh, stare off into space for a moment, and then agree to come. As long as it would just be the eight of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed his phone to check the time. Well, he was cutting it close, but at least he woke up in the A.M. today. He also had several messages in the group chat with Chan and Changbin to scroll through, but that would have to wait. He hadn’t plugged his phone in last night and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerously </span>
  </em>
  <span>close to dying, so he’d leave it to charge while he got ready for the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And what a day it was going to be. Hauling himself out of bed, brushing his teeth, eating breakfast, getting dressed, going to campus to check the collection—those were all normal things he had to do. Even soothing ancient spell books with minds of their own was a usual part of his daily life. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>a normal part of his life was heading to Chris’s house after he was done on campus, somehow having gotten roped into helping him set things up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisung flopped down on Chan’s couch and pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. The guys would start showing up in about another half hour, so he had to cherish these last few minutes of peace. Well, as peaceful as it could get with Bang Chan involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan seemed incapable of sitting still, he always had. He always needed to be focused on doing something—planning his class lectures, grading assignments, playing video games or any of his other eight thousand hobbies—and if he had nothing to do but sit, he always ended up bouncing his leg or wringing his hands together. They’d finished setting everything up, but while Jisung took a breather, Chan was making double sure everything was in order and rambling as he did so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still just the guys, right?” Jisung asked after a few moments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm? Yeah, why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re freaking out. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span> you none of our friends give a shit if there’s a little dust on the windowsill.” He sat up and looked over the back of the couch to where Chan was fussing over one of his bookcases. “Unless… you’re trying to impress a certain someone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan stopped dead in his tracks. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. Even with the distance between them, Jisung could see Chan’s ears turning red. “That’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>was why Changbin always had that shit-eating grin on his face. Oh, this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“New year, new relationship?” he teased. “You finally gonna tell him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have anything to tell anyone!” Chan insisted. When he turned around, his face was as red as his ears. “I’m not trying to… </span>
  <em>
    <span>impress </span>
  </em>
  <span>anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, come on. We all know you like Felix. It’s cute! You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan seemed to flounder for a split second, then snapped, “Well, what about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Your apartment is </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>as clean as it is when you know Minho is gonna come over!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, now they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>red-faced. “I—This isn’t about me! Let me tease you in peace!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not </span>
  <em>
    <span>Changbin</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about me?” Changbin asked, having picked an awfully convenient time to come strolling in through the front door without even knocking. The guys really didn’t need to—Chan knew they’d all be coming, after all—but it would have been nice. He dropped a massive bag of takeout on the counter, apparently having decided to bring some extra food to the party. “What’s goin’ on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to tease Chan for trying to impress Felix,” Jisung said, leaving out the part where Chan was trying to turn it back on him. “Wanna join?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Changbin said with his usual grin, coming over to dive onto the couch next to Jisung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Chan exclaimed, shifting his attention from Jisung to Changbin. “When are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to own up to liking Hyunjin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin very awkwardly looked away and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was obvious he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t try to bullshit me in my own house, Changbin,” Chan said. “You aren’t fooling </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>with that God-awful ringtone you have for him so you won’t miss his calls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That—That’s not why I have it set to that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung slid back down into the couch. “Holy shit, dude,” he muttered. “We’re all fucking stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, at least, was something they could all agree on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before the door was opening again, Seungmin and Jeongin coming in to make themselves right at home. Then it was Felix and Hyunjin, leaving Jisung sitting on the couch bouncing his leg while he waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was stupid. Why was he so worked up about it? He knew Minho would be there soon; Jisung had made sure to confirm with Minho that he was coming and that Chan hadn’t just made it up to get him out of his apartment again. And he was. He was coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was late, and that sucked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a half hour past the original schedule when Minho finally showed up, toting several extra bags of snacks and apologizing profusely for getting caught up out there. There were too many people at the store, he said, then too many people on the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, most of that fell on deaf ears. He was mobbed just about as soon as he walked through the door and the boys caught sight of his bags. No matter how much Chan had put together, the reality of it was that there was no amount of food in the world that their little group couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>decimate. </span>
  </em>
  <span>New additions to the food pile were always appreciated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung mostly just appreciated it when Minho flopped down on the couch next to him, saying he wanted a controller when they started the next round of the game they'd set up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Jisung didn’t plan on letting him win whenever they went head to head. He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>far gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was fifteen minutes to midnight when the alcohol started to kick in. They were all still huddled around the TV with their snacks and such, but they’d switched from video games to the official countdown. Cups of soda had been replaced by the various types of alcohol they all preferred, courtesy of a well-stocked cabinet in the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung wasn’t drunk or anything, definitely not. He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>much of a lightweight. But it was chipping away at his better sense, and after catching himself staring at Minho’s profile for </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too long, Jisung leaned over and asked half-jokingly, “So, are you gonna be my new year’s kiss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been for Minho to look back at him with a smirk on his face when he said, “Mmm, since you asked so nicely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a split second, his brain couldn’t decide if it wanted to play along with what must have been Minho playing along or if it wanted him to run and hide and never come back out. It decided on the former. “Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll look forward to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was a joke, right? As the countdown ticked steadily downwards, Jisung couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his head—and maybe, just maybe, imagining that Minho meant it. But it had to be a joke. Jisung’s tone had been too lighthearted and so had Minho’s, right? He wasn’t taking it seriously, he couldn’t be. Jisung wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind </span>
  </em>
  <span>if Minho actually kissed him—that sounded like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best </span>
  </em>
  <span>possible way to kick off the year, actually—but he couldn’t imagine that he meant it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The countdown continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just had to go along with it. Whatever happened or didn’t happen would just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>happen. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Or not. Whatever, right? When Chan asked everyone what their resolutions were at five minutes til, Jisung barely registered the question. He hadn’t even thought about that yet, so he ended up saying something lame about trying to keep his apartment in better order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a good year, he thought. There were a few rough patches as there always were, but he had genuinely had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>year—for reasons </span>
  <em>
    <span>besides</span>
  </em>
  <span> meeting Minho, even if that was a pretty big reason. He had brought new artifacts into the collection, he had gone to that dark arts conference in Germany back in April, he had made new connections and friends in the field, he and the boys had gotten into all kinds of fun trouble together when they weren’t on the clock…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next year would be even better. Maybe he’d go to more parties—no, no he wouldn’t, but maybe more magic conferences? He had </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoyed </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. Maybe… maybe Minho would go with him to one over the summer? No. That was stupid. That was a stupid thing to think. Minho had a life of his own that he couldn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>drop </span>
  </em>
  <span>because Jisung thought it would be fun to drag him to a witch convention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thirty seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’d do something fun with Minho. He knew he would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t imagine going into this new year without him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was vaguely aware of the boys chanting the countdown, but all he could do was play along with his own bullshit. He got Minho’s attention to jokingly make a stupid kissy face at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Happy new year. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho grinned at Jisung’s expression, then leaned over and brushed their lips together so lightly that Jisung wasn’t even sure it actually happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sudden wave of embarrassment on Minho’s face told him it did. “I—” Minho started to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung didn’t make the conscious decision to do it, but the next thing he knew, he was going in for a real kiss that he’d properly </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And if it didn’t work out, he could always blame the alcohol. That was what he told himself—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—right until Minho kissed back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. 14 || Han Jisung is Not Dreaming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung and Minho have a talk.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>&lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They needed to talk. They both knew it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet there they were, sitting across from each other a week after New Year’s, silently drinking their coffees while avoiding both the elephant in the room </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>the fact that they’d be back on campus doing their jobs again on Monday. The silence was </span>
  <em>
    <span>maddening. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They’d texted over the past week, of course, but being face-to-face again for the first time since Chris had had to stop them from making out on his couch just felt… different. Awkward. And Jisung hated that. He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to feel awkward with Minho. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to talk about it, to see if anything had changed between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked up at each other and grinned when they both tried to speak at the same time. There was a gentle, nervous smile on Minho’s face when Jisung fell silent again. “It’s not just me, right?” Minho asked. “This feels weird and we need to talk about… what happened, don’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung nodded. He could feel the heat burning in his cheeks as he said, “Yeah. I don’t… I don’t want us to go back to work and be busy again before we’ve… talked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho took a sip of his coffee. “Alright. Do you want to go first or should I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you drunk?” Jisung asked as quickly as he could. They had all stayed at Chan’s house to sleep off the alcohol that night, splitting off in pairs to occupy guest rooms and couches, then driven themselves home in the morning. The idea that Minho might’ve just been drunk off his ass when he kissed back was the first thing that had occurred to Jisung when he woke up the next morning. He wouldn’t be mad or anything if that was the case, but… it would be a bit of a disappointment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t,” Minho said plainly, pulling Jisung out of his thoughts. “Were you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Jisung replied. “I know we haven’t drank together before, but I’m not a total fucking lightweight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho glanced out the window while he gathered his thoughts. “So we were both maybe buzzed, but mostly sober.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then…” He took a breath. “Then we meant to kiss, didn’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit more hesitantly, Jisung nodded again. “Yeah.” Now he was nervously fiddling with the little amethyst ring on his finger. It was supposed to help with anxiety, but there he was, feeling like he was gonna lose it at any second. Useless fucking…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another long silence stretched out between them, filled only by soft chatter from other customers and the whirring of the café machinery. Jisung focused on his own breathing when he asked, “Did you actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to kiss me? Or did you just not want to upset me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho scoffed. “You don’t really think I’m that kind of person, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to.” Softly, like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to say it, Minho added, “I’d do it again, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung nearly choked on his coffee. Had he heard that last part correctly? He wasn’t sure he had. “You—What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho stared hard at his cup, a bright red blush covering his cheeks and ears. “If you kissing me was just a spur of the moment kind of thing, I get that. It was New Year’s. Even if we weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>drunk</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we were still </span>
  <em>
    <span>drinking. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shit happens, and I—I get that, I do, but I mean… </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why is this so difficult?” he asked, talking more to himself than Jisung. Jisung watched as he took a deep, </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep </span>
  </em>
  <span>breath and pulled himself together before looking up to meet his eyes. “I want you to reject me if you don’t feel the same. But I… like you. A lot. So. I don’t regret kissing you at all, if that’s what you’re worried about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That… couldn’t be right. Jisung must have misheard him or be misinterpreting or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because there was no way Minho was actually sitting across from him and telling him he </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. “I—Are you—Like, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.” Minho’s features had already been etched with worry. At Jisung’s stunned silence, his face fell even further. “And I just made everything weirder, didn’t I?” he asked. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—I like you too,” Jisung interrupted with a pounding heart and a twisting stomach. This didn’t feel real. This did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel real. But, shit, if it was a dream or a hallucination or whatever, he was gonna make the most of it. “I really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>like you. I’m… I’ve never been the kind of person to kiss people I don’t have feelings for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it was Minho’s turn to be shocked. “You—What?” He leaned forward, staring Jisung down with a ferocity. “Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare </span>
  </em>
  <span>say shit like that for my sake, Han Jisung. You better fucking mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t believe me, call Chan. Or Changbin, or Hyunjin, or literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>friend we have in common,” Jisung said, his voice as strong as Minho’s for a moment. Then he shrugged and his lips turned up into a shy smile. “They’ve known since the beginning and they haven’t shut up about it. They’re always teasing me. Any one of them will tell you I’ve been all in for you since the start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Minho said under his breath, leaning back in his chair again. It was relief on his face now, outlined by a barely-contained look of </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrill. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Really? You too? It’s… literally the exact same for me, Christ. I mean, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>smart </span>
  </em>
  <span>ones haven’t really been </span>
  <em>
    <span>teasing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Changbin has.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughed. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> Changbin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>is.” The air around them had cleared and the tension had drained away. That beautiful light shining in his eyes, Minho opened his mouth to say something else, then hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was pretty sure he knew what Minho was trying to say, though. And if he was wrong, well, he’d deal with that in a minute. “Do you wanna… go out?” Jisung gathered his courage to ask. He didn’t usually do this part; he tended to be a bit more shy when it came to </span>
  <em>
    <span>dating</span>
  </em>
  <span>, generally letting others approach him and then deciding whether he thought it was worth a chance or not. But he didn’t have to question whether this was worth it, so there he was, bravely fumbling through his proposition despite his inexperience. “Or we could just stay in and order food. I don’t care what we do, I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to have a… a date. The guys always tease about how we’re practically dating anyway, but I want a real one. Y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>usually the one who does the asking,” Minho said with that stupid precious grin of his. “I’m not usually so—I don’t know, so much of a coward? You have no idea how fucked up you’ve got me. There is genuinely nothing I would like more than to have a proper date with you.” He paused to think for a moment, then said, “Well, this is our last weekend before the semester starts, so… tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t exactly give Jisung much time to mentally prepare, but what was he gonna do, say </span>
  <em>
    <span>no? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Unlikely. “Sounds good to me,” he replied. “What’re we gonna do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho paused. “Give me a bit to figure it out and I’ll let you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Idiot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisung had known that Minho could cook for himself, of course, but he had still been surprised when he showed up to his apartment and found a nice homemade meal waiting for him. As a whole, their </span>
  <em>
    <span>date </span>
  </em>
  <span>was no different than any other time they hung out—they ate, they watched a movie, Minho’s cats walked all over them while they sat on the couch. But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>different. The care Minho put into </span>
  <em>
    <span>personally </span>
  </em>
  <span>making the food for them, the utter lack of space between them as they sat together, the obvious fondness in Minho’s voice when he said the cats really had decided that Jisung was a keeper… it was like Jisung had fallen through a portal to a world he had been, quite literally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dreaming </span>
  </em>
  <span>about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weight of Minho’s arm around him continued to remind him that it wasn’t a dream anymore. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>real. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And it couldn’t get any better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple hundred years ago, they probably would’ve hated each other. In the old days, back when witches and vampires were always being persecuted for things they may or may </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>have done, it wasn’t uncommon for members of each species to try to shove the accusations off onto the other. A vampire didn’t drain this victim, no, it was a witch who needed blood for a ritual. No, no, a witch didn’t curse this person—a vampire had been slowly killing them, taking blood day by day. And that didn’t change until society matured, until people grew a bit more rational and realized that witches and vampires were hardly the threat humans had assumed they were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes the resentment from back then still lingered. Older members of both species often harbored the old hatred, the old skepticism towards each other. How many witches had been hanged because a vampire wouldn’t own up to their crime? How many vampires had been staked because a witch wouldn’t admit to using human blood? And how could either of them </span>
  <em>
    <span>forgive </span>
  </em>
  <span>each other for the suffering they had caused?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Jisung and Minho were young, relatively. That was all ancient history to them. It was just another one of those lessons from the past that they had learned from. Jisung’s grandparents had often told him stories of the old days; no matter how dangerous those times could be, they still missed how simple the world used to be. They had a tendency to praise those days as better than the ones they lived in now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck that. Jisung snuggled in just a little bit closer. Old rivalries and the threat to his life and the way he </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>could have openly been with Minho… what could be appealing about that? They may have still lived in a bullshit, human-centered society, but as long as they could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was all worth it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is the beginning of the semester ever busy for you?” Minho asked when his attention wandered from the movie. “You said finals season is always rough, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shook his head. “No, not really. People who come in towards the start of the semester are either professionals or kids who have non-academic interests in curses and stuff. I imagine </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>be busy getting to know everyone and setting up your lessons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much,” Minho said. “I have the base curriculum and everything, but I have to get a gauge on where everyone’s at and what subjects I need to focus on more…” He sighed. “It’ll take a couple weeks to get settled in, but I’ll manage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. I’ll pay for our coffee for the first couple weeks, then. So you don’t have to worry about that, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho smiled, looked over, and pressed a kiss to the top of Jisung’s head. “You don’t have to. I’m a grown man. Paying for coffee isn’t very high on my list of stresses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know, but I wanna do it anyway. I care about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung did. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho caught him </span>
  <em>
    <span>entirely </span>
  </em>
  <span>off-guard with a kiss. “What are you, a little coffee angel? I care about you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung knew his face was red even as he said, “You fuckin’ better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I not?” He grabbed Jisung’s waist and hauled him over, settling him comfortably in his lap. “I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re into me, so what does that say about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>a dork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung grinned. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho tightened his grip on Jisung, holding him close like he never wanted to let him go. “Sure are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Minho never wanted to let go, Jisung was fine with that.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Everybody point at the gays</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. 14.5 || Lee Minho Breaks His Rule</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chan stops in to visit Minho.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick lil mini chapter bc I Wanted To</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was a knock at the office door. “Come in,” Minho called, looking away from the computer monitor where he was inputting the first day’s attendance record. Everyone was there, of course, but he knew it was just a matter of time before students started skipping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan walked in, a smug grin on his face. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>So. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You two are finally together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you say a fucking word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I’m happy for you!” Chan exclaimed, closing the door behind him and coming to sit across from Minho. The massive smile on his face seemed to confirm the sentiment, but Minho knew just how quickly literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of his friends could start being little shits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So. Which one of you won the bet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan paused. “You knew about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucker</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Minho groaned. “I didn’t know shit! I was joking!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, shit.” He reached up to rub his neck. “I… well, since you asked, it was Hyunjin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck all of you, honestly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it makes you feel better, we didn’t bet </span>
  <em>
    <span>money </span>
  </em>
  <span>or anything. It was just for who washes the dishes next time we all get together.” He chuckled. “I, uh, I was the farthest off, so. It’ll be me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys are so fucking stupid,” Minho sighed, turning his attention back to his work. Aside from attendance, he had brief questionnaires to review. He passed them out at the beginning of every semester, just ten questions about the student and what they knew about vampiric history. Some students wrote more than others, and no matter how much they wrote, he’d have to make a list compiling what was and was not common knowledge among this new batch of kids. None of the other professors he was friends with went so in-depth with that sort of thing, but he didn’t want to waste anyone’s time rehashing things they already knew. “So?” he asked when Chan didn’t get up to leave. “What did you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to ask if you wanted to go to lunch tomorrow,” Chan said, “but as soon as I got in here I realized you’ll probably go out with your </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So. Do you have any idea when you </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be hanging out with him so we can meet up? Aside from making fun of you, we’re friends, y’know. We haven’t done anything since right after Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. Chris may have been a pain in the ass, but he was right. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>friends, and they did like to hang out. That was why he ever showed up to the café even when he knew that Chan and Changbin would spend the whole time poking him in the ribs. “Since we’re settling in for the semester, I don’t have a whole schedule worked out yet. I don’t even know if I’m going out with Jisung tomorrow. Can you give me another week to get sorted? And then we’ll figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan smiled. “Yeah, alright. Let me know. And, y’know, if you ever need advice about Jisung—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you have a class to teach? Get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Awww. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fine, fine.” He stood to leave. “Good luck with class and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Chan had left, Minho found himself mindlessly staring at his desktop. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll probably go out with your boyfriend, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had said. It still didn’t feel real. Minho couldn’t believe that they had </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissed</span>
  </em>
  <span> and had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date </span>
  </em>
  <span>and that they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriends </span>
  </em>
  <span>and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He broke his personal rule and looked at his cellphone. There it was, reality spelled out as simply as it possibly could be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Have a good day at work baby （＾ν＾）</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>You too &lt;3 </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanna go to dinner tonight after we’re done?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course!!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>See you then ♡♡</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This reality was everything he’d ever wanted. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Them</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. 15 || Han Jisung Has a Job to Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung receives a visitor.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jisung nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the door to his office practically slam open. He finished jotting down </span>
  <em>
    <span>all as usual </span>
  </em>
  <span>and shoved the notebook back into his pocket, then rushed out to his office. There was a man standing there with a thick scarf around his neck and a serious look on his face, clearly not there as a social call. Jisung swallowed hard, leaning back against the door to the collection room; there was a tension in the air that he needed a moment to adjust to. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Han Jisung?” the man asked. Jisung thought to himself that he had seen this man somewhere before, that he was familiar… but he wasn’t sure where he’d seen him. A past visitor, maybe? He wasn’t sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung just nodded and said, “Yes, that’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, take a seat,” he said, quickly locking the collection room door as the man sat. He joined the man then, settling into his chair as best as he could. It wasn’t often that people came barging into his office so suddenly and with so few words at a time. The few instances it had happened were… oh. “What’s the problem?” he asked. “Where am I needed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man seemed to let out a sigh of relief. “So you already understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People don’t come into my office with that sort of look on their face unless there’s a problem.” He took a deep breath. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Theodus, and I’m a historian working with the university during my stay here, compiling some folklore from small countryside villages—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You wrote </span>
  <em>
    <span>Back to the Abyss</span>
  </em>
  <span>, didn’t you? About the witches of coastal villages in the old days?” Jisung asked. He’d read the book just a few weeks ago. That was where he had seen that guy—the </span>
  <em>
    <span>about the author</span>
  </em>
  <span> flap at the back of the book. “I had no idea you’d been working with the university recently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theodus nodded. “I did. You’ve read it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. I enjoyed it a lot, actually,” Jisung said. “But, I’m sorry, I interrupted you. You’re just… a long way from England. You’re working with the University in the countryside villages?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. We’ve been working up north for some time, and a few days ago we uncovered… something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Something?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A corpse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung nearly choked on his own spit. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>corpse?</span>
  </em>
  <span> How does that have anything to do with me and not the natural history museum?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the thing, Mr. Han. This thing… we don’t believe that it’s actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>natural</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As soon as it was unearthed, the village started to experience a particular set of problems.” He reached into his jacket and withdrew a cellphone, which he looked through for a moment before passing across the table. “A number of residents promptly fell ill, and thus far we haven’t been able to diagnose them with any </span>
  <em>
    <span>known</span>
  </em>
  <span> disease—or even any </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Then the livestock started to be affected, then their crops. Please, take a look at the photos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the feeling that he wouldn’t like what he saw, Jisung started to flip through the photos. Sure enough, he hated what he saw. The crops, well, those were fine—brown and withered and dead, but a bunch of plants nonetheless. It was the animals that looked like they had had the life sucked out of them, the skin and bones that had become of once healthy people that got to him. They were covered in deep purple blotches that looked like bruises, but from what? And why had their eyes all glazed over so </span>
  <em>
    <span>badly?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was only one real answer. Things like this didn’t just happen </span>
  <em>
    <span>naturally. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Whoever they had dug up in the countryside had done this, had left behind some kind of death curse that fell upon the town like the wall of night overtaking the evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he said. He sighed to himself, then looked back up from the phone. “You need me to reign it in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I imagine you visited other witches first. You wouldn’t come straight to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>if it was a job someone else could easily handle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theodus nodded once. “We first attempted to work with one of the village witches, but she fell sick the day after her attempt. Witches from out of town have proven unable to contain it, too.” He shook his head then, a sense of defeat hanging over his shoulders. “If </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>can’t put a stop to this, we believe the village will be lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been awhile since Jisung had been called out of town for a job, ten months at the least. Normally it was an exciting prospect, putting some curse to sleep and locking it up in a neat little glass box. But corpses and death curses… oh, he could do it, but it wasn’t something he did often enough to be used to it. Towns like that always had the stench of death hanging in the air, filling his lungs and making his eyes water as he worked. And the corpses themselves were, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>corpses. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sure, he could work with and perhaps even summon the dead as needed, but he took no joy in resting his hands on dead flesh to search out the answers he needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>corpse was particularly unattractive. The photo was bad enough to look at, so how atrocious must the thing be up close? It was partially mummified, dried out and staring with empty eye sockets, with remnants of taut skin and brittle hair still clinging to the bones. It was clear that this body, whoever it was, hadn’t been treated with the usual respect offered to the dead. The evidence suggested even worse—that they had been kept alive in torment for some time before they died, ancient rope still hanging off their wrists and a death curse lingering behind. Death curses were only left by the truly miserable, those who faced the worst and longed for some form of payback even if they weren’t alive to see it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This body had been through hell, and now that it had been unearthed, the curse it left behind was all too happy to wreak havoc on people who hadn’t even known of its existence. Such was the darkness that festered in this world, precisely the sort of thing that gave people like Jisung a job to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he wouldn’t have fun with this one. But still, he had gone into this field to protect people, and he wouldn’t dream of leaving that little village to its fate. “Alright,” he said. “When do we leave?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minho grabbed Jisung by the waist and pulled him onto the bed. “I’ll miss you,” he whined, tightening his grip when Jisung tried to get back up. He’d been ridiculously clingy ever since Jisung had asked him to come over for dinner so he could tell him about his trip. “How long will you be gone, again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you,” Jisung replied, “I don’t know exactly. At least a few days. You’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so let me finish packing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho begrudgingly let him go, his eyes never leaving Jisung as he raced back to his dresser before Minho could grab him again. “I’m starting to think that maybe I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>like your job, if it’ll be taking you away from me very often.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the first time I’ve had to leave town in almost a year.” Jisung tossed another shirt from his dresser to the bed, where his suitcase was laying wide open next to his stupid grumpy boyfriend. It was March now, and somehow, they still hadn’t gotten sick of practically being attached at the hip. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>—except right now, when Jisung didn’t have a choice </span>
  <em>
    <span>but </span>
  </em>
  <span>to leave. He couldn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> do his job. He glanced over his shoulder. His heart squeezed at the sight of the miserable little pout on Minho’s face. “It doesn’t happen often, just when there’s something really important happening. And I’ll be back before you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you always been so mopey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know full well that I have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, that was true. Jisung really couldn’t argue with that. “Okay, well, you still have </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>job to do, so it isn’t like all you have to do is sit and stare at the wall.” He looked back over again, and seeing the look on Minho’s face, he couldn’t help but soften. “I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be home as soon as I can, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nodded. “I know, I do, I just… I wish we’d had more </span>
  <em>
    <span>warning. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He just showed up </span>
  <em>
    <span>today</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you’re leaving in the morning. I would’ve liked a bit more time with you before you have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s not ideal, but…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Sorry for being so whiny. It’s not your fault. We’ve just been so close together for so long that I’m not sure how well I’ll adjust without you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung sighed and carried the last of his clothes over to the bed. He dropped them on his open suitcase, then took the initiative to crawl up onto Minho’s lap. That, at least, got him to sit back up and stop looking so miserable. “I’ll text all the time and call whenever I can,” he promised. “Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good to me.” He smiled, then stole a deep kiss. When they finally parted again, Jisung almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>lost it </span>
  </em>
  <span>at Minho’s breathless voice telling him, “I’ll look forward to that. But I’ll mostly be looking forward to you getting back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d better,” Jisung said before going in for another kiss. He could finish packing later. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey so! The new semester just started for me, so I am once again suddenly. Very busy. College, am I right, folks?<br/>Anyway, since I’m getting busy again, it might take longer between updates. I’ll still try my best and I have a couple chapters written in advance, though! So please bear with me here &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. 15.5 || Han Jisung Heads Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung does some light texting during the car ride. (Don’t worry, he’s not driving.)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>You’ll all take care of Minho, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s gonna get lonely without me :((</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Seungminnie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I mean I guess but why the fuck are you asking us and not Chan and Changbin</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Have you ever MET those two</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Seungminnie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nvm I get it</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Pffffffft</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I might have my hands full, but I’ll try. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Fewix</b>
</p><p>
  <span>hands full of CHANGBIN’S ASS AMIRITE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>im sorry</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Seungminnie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Why am I friends with you people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I ask myself that same thing every day of my life</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hyunhyun</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, I’m having my class turn in four-page essays on the last book we read. Changbin has nothing to do with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Fewix</b>
</p><p>
  <span>suuuuuuuuuure~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>fr tho you can count on me sung!! ill try my best for you!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Seungminnie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, I’ll try, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin says he’ll pitch in, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopefully we won’t have to shove him off on Chan</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank you &lt;3</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisung sighed and flipped out of their group chat, right into his personal chat with Minho. As stealthily as he could from where he sat in the passenger seat of Theodus’s car, he took a quick selfie with a dumb expression. Something to cheer Minho up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>.IMG_2847</span>
</p><p>
  <span>xoxo</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin ♡</b>
</p><p>
  <span>God you’re cute</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss you already &lt;/3</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where are you?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Poor baby :c</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’re about an hour away from the village</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m surprised the cell service comes out this far but I am very glad it does</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have to keep you company when I can!!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where are youuuuu</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin ♡</b>
</p><p>
  <span>My office</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.IMG_2083</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lunch you made for me is very good thank you</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m glad~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re so cute…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always acting like such a tsun and then you come up with a cute idea like making lunches for each other for today……</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaaaa (//∇//)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin ♡</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Shut up</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Have you eaten yet?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I haven’t had a chance to :(</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’re gonna stop for a lunch break before we get to the village though~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ll let you know when we do!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin ♡</b>
</p><p>
  <span>You better</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hope you like the food;;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Babyyyyyyy</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You know I always like whatever you make for me ♡</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin ♡</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Still</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Hehehe</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am so so sorry but my attention is now needed elsewhere :(</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ll text you again when we stop I promise!!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minmin ♡</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay &lt;/3</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talk to you in a bit</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I love you</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jisung</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Love you too~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>did. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next one is uhhhh kinda long and Minho-centric so look forward to that &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. 16 || Lee Minho is Wondering</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho misses Jisung.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This felt longer when I was writing it but eh c’est la vie have fun kiddos</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been four days since Jisung left. He’d done well about keeping a pretty regular texting schedule, so Minho always knew about when to expect a message from him. Right in the usual time slot, Minho’s phone vibrated in his pocket as his students started to file out of the room. This class wasn’t as fun as last semester’s had been, but that was just the way it went sometimes. He waited as patiently as he could until they were all out of the room to pull out his phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>.IMG_2865</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Look at this cute flower I found in the woods!!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Cute</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why are you in the woods?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>We dug up a story about an old gravesite out here and we’re visiting it to see if it’s anything like the one that first started causing trouble</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>So… you’re purposefully seeking out what may be a second cursed gravesite?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Yep!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>God you’re dumb</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Awwww :(</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ll be careful, I promise~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Good</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t want you getting hurt</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay mom</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m a big boy I can handle it</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No cursed grave will claim me &gt;:)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>You…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh reception SUCKS in the woods I’ll text later byeeeeee love youuuuuu</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I love you too</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Be safe</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>♡</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now he would settle in for the long wait. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>long wait </span>
  </em>
  <span>was just a few hours, really, but the time between Jisung’s afternoon text and his evening text felt like </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Minho had gotten far too used to being able to talk to this boy at literally any time of day, provided he was teaching his class or Jisung wasn’t in a meeting. But those were temporary blips, never more than the hour and a half it took Minho to get through a class; Jisung’s meetings never went over an hour. This waiting, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>wondering</span>
  </em>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed as he gathered his papers and shut off the classroom computer. Oh, the waiting was hell, but the real torture was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>wondering. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wondering if Jisung was alright, if he was getting into trouble or not. He wasn’t at liberty to discuss the finer details of the case as it was ongoing—that was what he had said when Minho asked what was going on—and could only make brief mentions of things, like saying they were going looking for another gravesite. He couldn’t say what they expected to find there, nor could he tell Minho that evening what they ended up uncovering—just whether it was a dud or not. He couldn’t tell him about the villagers’ conditions, how many deaths there were, nothing of the sort; it was all classified until the event was over and an official record had been made. So while Jisung was fretting over dying villagers and containing a death curse, Minho was left wondering if Jisung was truly as okay as he said he was.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin had told him that he was going to worry himself sick if he didn’t just trust in Jisung and take him at his word. He couldn’t help it, though, and if his utter lack of an appetite these past couple days was any indication, he had already reached the point of worrying himself sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still had his own job to do, though, so he tried to ignore the weight of his phone in his pocket as he wandered back to his office. There wasn’t much for him to do today, just to input attendance and keep an eye out for emails from the students. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>miserable. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A few minutes to put in attendance, a few seconds to check his inbox, and then what? Sit around and wait for a text message that wouldn’t show up for hours, that was all he had left for the day. He was beginning to regret not assigning some kind of running project so he’d have shit to grade to keep himself busy while Jisung was gone, but he knew full well that that would just make this batch of students hate him. The last batch had been relaxed and fun, kids he had been able to build a really nice classroom environment with. This group… they obviously weren’t there to make friends, just to get their credit hours and go. What was the point? The way he saw it, if they were going to take his class, they might as well </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to enjoy it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. If the students didn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be there, he couldn’t change their inherent attitude no matter how hard he tried. He’d learned that a long, long time ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yanked his phone out when he felt it vibrate again, only to groan when it was nothing but a social media notification. It had been a long four days, and it didn’t seem like the days ahead were going to be any better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any other evening, Minho would be at Jisung’s apartment or the other way around, making dinner together and talking about their days. It had been a week now since Jisung left, and it was all Minho could do to force a bowl of cereal down his throat while he stared at his phone and tried to manifest the arrival of a text message. Jisung had said a simple </span>
  <em>
    <span>good morning</span>
  </em>
  <span> before dawn, before Minho had even woken up. And that was it. That was all he had gotten that day—no pictures of the sky or cute plants he found, no saying that he had eaten so don’t worry, no heart emojis to tell Minho that he was busy but still thinking about him. All he had received since half-past five in the morning was absolute radio silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to lose his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realistically, he knew that Jisung was essentially the best of the best. If there was anyone in this country who could get shit under control and do it well, it was him. It was why he got a massive pay bonus every time he did an off-campus job like this, it was why he had people regularly messaging him online or approaching him in person to ask for his help, it was why he was in charge of a collection that would have driven any other keeper quite literally insane. It had happened before, Jisung had once told him—a previous keeper hadn’t been quite strong enough, and after months of observing the collection, the energy that thrummed through that room disrupted his mind. He had a series of meltdowns, but the University didn’t have a replacement on hand, so what choice was there but to let him in every morning for those unsteady days?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found him dead in the back of the room barely a year after they hired him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the story Minho needed in his mind right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was overreacting, he told himself. Jisung was strong—stronger than anyone else in his field, he was sure of it. There was no reason to assume the worst just because he hadn’t texted in a few hours. He was probably just busy, caught up in caring for someone or doing some research or whatever the fuck else he was doing in that village. Jisung was fine. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock at the door. In spite of himself, his hopes soared. Was Jisung home early? Was that why he hadn’t texted all day, so he could just show up on Minho’s doorstep and surprise him? He was at the door in an instant, yanking it open with wide eyes—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. It’s just you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to see you too,” Seungmin replied, though not with as much venom as he could have. “Do you have some time? I wanted to ask you about a couple things for a lecture I’m doing this week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighed softly. “Yeah, yeah, come in. Why didn’t you just text me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was in the neighborhood.” Seungmin wasted no time in heading to Minho’s couch and pulling a folder out of his bag. “And I thought the company might do you some good. You’ve been pretty despondent since Jisung left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Despondent</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Minho muttered under his breath as he took his half-eaten bowl of cereal to the sink. He supposed it was true, but he didn’t enjoy being called out on it. He was eighty years old, for God’s sake. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have himself under control by now, and yet… He shook his head and went to sit next to Seungmin. “So, what did you want to ask about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can you tell me about the 1745 Beijing Revolt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shrugged. “Humans pushed too far and non-humans got sick of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin gave him one of those signature </span>
  <em>
    <span>no shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> looks of his. “Details about vampiric involvement, if you don’t mind. What was the role of vampires in planning and executing the damn thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho may not have had the self-control he wished he had, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have at least half of a brain cell. As far as he knew, Seungmin didn’t cover rebellions in his class—just the boring shit, like peace treaties and lawmaking and things of that nature. This was a distraction. This was a poorly-veiled attempt to keep him busy, to keep him from doing nothing but sitting around waiting for Jisung to come home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, God damn it, it worked. His class was just about the only thing keeping him sane while he waited, but he couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>teach</span>
  </em>
  <span> his class at seven in the evening. He could, however, throw himself into telling one of his friends about the major players of a historical event that set the stage for future rebellions across the Asian continent. Beijing may have failed, but it left behind a valuable record of what </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do when seeking freedom from human overlords. First: Don’t underestimate guns. Humans may not have had the natural weapons that non-humans did, but they more than made up for it in their technologies. Second: Don’t underestimate explosives—for God’s sake, </span>
  <em>
    <span>use them</span>
  </em>
  <span> before the humans could. Third: Don’t trust human </span>
  <em>
    <span>sympathizers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He practically spat the word. They were almost always employed by the crown or a local lord, anyone who stood to lose something if the non-humans under their jurisdictions rose up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On and on that list went, and before he knew it, he had moved from 1745 Beijing to 1786 Jakarta, to 1796 Seoul, 1823 Manila… it was a rabbit hole, one he knew Seungmin pushed him into on purpose, but one he wasn’t going to try to pull himself out of quite yet, not as long as it kept his mind busy. He needed this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Seungmin couldn’t stay all night to hear the complete history of vampire-involved Asian rebellions. He left a few minutes after eleven, leaving Minho to make his way through his evening routine. It led to him laying in bed, clutching his phone in his hand and falling asleep as he waited for a text that never came.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two full days of silence passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the first day, Minho found himself in Chan’s office, wringing his hands as he told him that he hadn’t heard anything from Jisung since the previous morning. He must have been talking too much, too fast, because Chan reached across his desk and grabbed Minho’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax,” he had said. “This happens sometimes. He always tries to keep in touch, but sometimes things turn out to be a bit more serious than he initially thought. I’m sure he’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So—So this happens a lot?” Minho asked, fully aware of the desperation in his voice. It was stupid. He knew it was stupid how worked up he was getting, but he just… he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan hesitated. “Well… not… not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho’s anxiety skyrocketed again. “How often, then?” he demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah… a time or two, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re trying to get me to relax based on </span>
  <em>
    <span>one or two </span>
  </em>
  <span>previous experiences?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minho—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was at that point that Minho got up and walked out of the office without another word. He knew Chan was trying to do his best to help, and he knew he wasn’t doing himself any favors by spending every free moment fretting over a grownass man. That didn’t stop him from doing it, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If any of his friends had asked why </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was so freaked out, he might have tried to play it off as never having had a partner who did crazy dangerous shit like Jisung was off doing. And that was true, it was—his previous partners had either been ordinary vampires like him or even more ordinary humans, not that more than one of his past relationships had really been that serious. The truth was a bit deeper than that, though still along the same vein. He’d never been with anyone like Jisung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never loved anyone as much as he loved Jisung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how irrational the fear of losing him may or may not have been, it had settled deep in Minho’s chest and was holding on with all its might. It was hard for Minho to really open up to people and be vulnerable with them. He had been told one too many times that he seemed distant and cold, that he was more of a statue than a man. That wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He struggled to express his emotions, sure, but he had them—a lot of them. And Jisung, well, he was precious to Minho beyond measure. Beyond words, quantification, any of it. Jisung was the first person he had ever felt completely comfortable with. And if he was hurt… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the evening of the second day of silence, he opened their chat with trembling hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Minho</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Are you okay?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did you lose your charger or something</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Please tell me you’re okay</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did I fuck something up did I upset you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m so so so so sorry if I did</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can tell me to fuck off and go to hell if you want please jsut reply</span>
</p><p>
  <span>please tell me youre okay</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i know im just.... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>the way that i am</span>
</p><p>
  <span>you mgihj ust be tired of me nad thats fine just tell me</span>
</p><p>
  <span>please come home</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i miss you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i love you</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was met with a long, long night of silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning wasn’t any better. There was nothing in their chat but his panicked messages, and nothing he could do but try to piece himself together and go teach his fucking class. He had done a lot of difficult things in his eighty years, but somehow, getting out of the house that morning and heading to campus was the hardest of them all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No new messages from Jisung, just from the boys Jisung had obviously enlisted to try to keep Minho company while he was gone. Boys who didn’t seem anywhere nearly as concerned about Jisung dropping off the face of the earth as Minho was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being reminded of Jisung at every turn—they’d eaten there together the week before Jisung left, they’d walked down that sidewalk together, they’d kissed by that tree before starting their work days, Minho had waited for Jisung outside of that library so many times it had become a regular part of his routine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wondering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wondering.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wondering.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If his students noticed him acting weird, they didn’t care enough to say anything. They just silently sat through the lecture as always, scribbling down notes or scrolling through their phones; he knew better than to rip those phones away from them, because he’d had too many students who needed to play a mindless game while they listened if they were going to retain any of the information. Aside from Minho himself, the entire world seemed to be operating as usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halfway through the lecture, Minho’s phone buzzed in his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told himself not to get his hopes up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He excused himself for a moment. Pulled his phone out of his pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sungie</b>
</p><p>
  <span>home</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. 17 || Han Jisung Has Seen Better Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung is finally home.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[[crawls out of the pits of Hell carrying this chapter in my mouth like a rabid dog and drops it at ur feet]] hello again girls and gays</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The apartment was silent when Minho let himself in with the key Jisung had given him. He softly called out for him—and was responded to with a tired </span>
  <em>
    <span>mmmh </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all his strength to not fall to his knees when he saw Jisung all snug in his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said quietly, walking over to kneel next to the bed. His breath caught. Jisung looked… well, he looked like shit. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, his normally soft cheeks hollow and lacking their usual color. Oh, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see him like that. It felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest and stomped on. But he couldn’t fall apart, not when Jisung so obviously needed to be taken care of right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his condition, Jisung managed to pull together a smile. “Hey,” he replied. His voice sounded as bad as he looked, rough and worn out like he had been forced to work it into uselessness. “I—I wanted to text you, but… everything just went to shit and I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shook his head and brushed a strand of hair out of Jisung’s face. “Don’t worry about that. Just—God, are you okay? What happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we…” He trailed off to clear his throat, then winced like it was sore. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>sounded </span>
  </em>
  <span>sore. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” he croaked. “I just wanna sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, baby,” Minho said. He couldn’t push Jisung while he looked like this, he just couldn’t. “Just, let me go get you some water, okay? And then you can sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung agreed, and one drained bottle of water later, Minho found himself holding Jisung against his chest as the poor exhausted boy slept. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>—a little beat up, evidently, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. Now Minho felt a bit stupid for having all those fucking anxiety attacks and sending Jisung all those dumbass misspelled panic texts, but they could deal with that later. Minho had cut his class short so he could go straight to Jisung’s apartment, and now that Jisung was asleep, Minho highly doubted he’d wake up before morning. So he would settle in on his phone, do some reading on an ebook he’d been working on, and crawl out of bed later to make dinner—something for Jisung to eat if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen to wake up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But for now, all Minho wanted to do was hold him and never, never, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>let him go again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisung woke up in the morning to find a new bottle of water on his bedside table and Minho laying next to him, typing something on his phone. He sighed softly and reached for the water bottle, attracting Minho’s attention in the process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” he said. The smile on his face was like seeing Jisung chugging that water with the grace of a fish flopping across the floor was the best thing that had ever happened to him. “Did you sleep well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung nodded. Once the bottle was empty and his throat felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly </span>
  </em>
  <span>better, he laid back down. “Yeah,” he replied—and immediately regretted it. His throat was still torn to pieces. All that screaming and inhaling dust and God knew what else hadn’t done him any favors. Still, he wasn’t going to ignore Minho or only answer with a nod. “Did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What—fuck, what time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eight in the morning. You were out for a long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eight in the morning… if he had passed out around two, that was, what? Eighteen straight hours of sleep? He hadn’t even gotten </span>
  <em>
    <span>eight</span>
  </em>
  <span> hours </span>
  <em>
    <span>total </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the last few days of his trip. He rubbed his eyes and snuggled in next to Minho, his sore muscles finding infinite relief when Minho held him close. “We got the first grave contained,” Jisung said, lowering his voice to ease the strain on his throat. “The second was a dud. But we found a third while we were out there looking again, and it just…” He shivered at the memory. That third corpse, chained and in a similar state to the first, had been host to something he knew would be haunting his dreams for the rest of his life. The corpse had risen as soon as the grave was opened, it had reached out with its bony hands and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho gently rubbed Jisung’s back. “It’s okay,” he said. “Take your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung took a moment to regain his composure. “I had to give it everything,” he said. “I didn’t—I couldn’t take a break. The only reason I didn’t pass out from exhaustion was because we managed to contain it a few times, but it kept getting out. The dead… they don’t like to give up, especially if they’re angry.” He swallowed and winced at the feeling. All the spells, the prayers, the chanting… it hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>so bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he felt that he owed Minho this explanation. “When it was over… I just—I passed out in one of the houses. Woke up when I was being dropped off here. I—I read your texts as soon as I got in.” He looked up at Minho. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span> I scared you like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, please—don’t apologize,” Minho said. “I don’t want you to waste your energy on that. I’m the one who overreacted and assumed the worst. It’s… God, it’s embarrassing the way I acted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you were scared, I—I should’ve warned you that something like that might—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shut him up with a kiss. It drained the rest of the tension from Jisung’s body, leaving him limp and relaxed in a way he had forgotten was possible. When they parted, the softness in Minho’s eyes made Jisung feel like everything was right in the world. “I’m just glad you’re home safe,” Minho said, pressing another soft kiss to Jisung’s forehead. “I’m so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>happy you’re okay. That’s all that matters anymore, baby. That’s it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As good as he felt, Jisung could have fallen back asleep right then and there. But he sighed and sat up, saying, “I really need to go take a bath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank God.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I smell that bad, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean. I’m happy enough to see you to try to ignore it, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung just rolled his eyes. He knew he smelled awful, but there hadn’t exactly been anything he could do about it when he was in the middle of trying to defeat an angry corpse. Laying in a nice warm bath for awhile sounded really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice to his aching body, but wasn’t a comfort to know that he’d have to change his nasty sheets if the bath was going to mean anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho beat him in crawling out of bed, of course. “Take it easy, okay?” he said, running his fingers through Jisung’s hair despite how disgusting it must have been. “I’ll run the bath for you. You just get your clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung nodded. He could do that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he was up, he slowly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>painfully, </span>
  </em>
  <span>managed to peel himself out of his long-sleeved shirt and pants, abandoning them in the laundry basket as soon as he walked into the bathroom. Minho was crouched next to the tub, making sure the water temperature held steady as it filled. Jisung could hear the faint fizzing of one of those homemade bath bombs he kept in the cabinet—the ones with all the essential oils and herbs and such to help him decompress when he really needed to. He put his clean clothes on the counter and leaned against it while he waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a couple minutes, Minho shut off the water and looked behind him. He froze. “Jisung… what happened?” Minho quietly asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was confused to see a look of horror on Minho’s face. He turned around to look at himself in the mirror then, and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. His body had seen better days, hadn't it? He hadn’t really had a chance to eat, so it looked like he’d dropped a couple pounds—but the real horror in Minho’s eyes must have been the cuts and bruises. Deep purple splotches mottled his skin, highlighted by red scratches crossing his body. “Well. This looks worse than it feels,” he said in, possibly, the lamest attempt he could muster to make Minho feel better. “My throat is the worst part, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So your throat </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>hurt as bad as your voice sounds. Christ, stop fucking talking,” Minho said with an exasperated sigh, though Jisung could tell he wasn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Just frustrated that Jisung wasn’t taking very good care of himself. “Come on, come here. Let’s get you in and I’ll go make some tea, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t like Minho hadn’t seen Jisung naked before. They were comfortable together, they didn’t go out of their way to try to hide anything or avoid looking at each other. That was why it was so obvious to Jisung that Minho was avoiding looking at him for too long as he threw his underwear into the laundry basket, as Minho helped him step into the tub without falling on his weakened, unsteady legs. And he couldn’t blame Minho for it at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must have been a shock to his system to see Jisung like that. He knew Jisung as healthy, with unmarked skin and bright eyes. The bruises and the scrapes that covered him couldn’t have been easy to look at, not when he hadn’t had any warning that Jisung would come home looking like he’d been through hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God. He felt like a total dick. Why hadn’t he mentioned to Minho how ugly it could get? Why didn’t he </span>
  <em>
    <span>say </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything? But Minho wasn’t mad. He left and returned to the bathroom with the promised cup of tea, sat beside the tub, and offered to help Jisung if he needed it. He wasn’t going anywhere, he said, and he’d be right there to help with anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Jisung had had any energy to spare, he might very well have cried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have that kind of energy, though. He just sat there in the bath, drinking his tea, putting the mug on the solid edge of the tub, and struggling to lift his arms enough to actually wash himself. It felt like so much more effort than he had thought it would. When it became obvious he was doing his best just to not drop his mug in the water whenever he picked it up, Minho took over for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry you have to take care of me,” Jisung said, leaning into the sensation of Minho’s fingers working shampoo through his hair. It was so nice to be home and close to him again, but he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for everything Minho was going through. He was being a burden, wasn’t he? He had made Minho worry so much, and now that he was home, Minho had to even wash Jisung’s hair for him because he couldn’t fucking do it himself. It was too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you to stop talking,” Minho said, though his voice lacked all harshness. “Don’t apologize. I’m taking care of you because I love you, Jisung. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung opened his mouth to say something—then closed it again, knowing Minho would just tell him to stop talking </span>
  <em>
    <span>again. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he was right, of course. Jisung </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to let his throat rest after everything, but he just wanted to talk to Minho so </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad. </span>
  </em>
  <span>To keep apologizing. Minho deserved all of the apologies Jisung could muster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he wouldn’t hear any of them. He just washed Jisung’s hair, scrubbed his back, helped him get all the dirt out from underneath his nails. When Jisung was clean and felt like a real person again, Minho helped him back out of the tub and made sure he got dried off and in his fresh clothes. And if all of that wasn’t more than enough, as if Jisung didn’t already feel like a pampered little kid, Minho put together the best meal he could with the crap in Jisung’s cabinets and told him to eat while he went and changed the bedsheets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was done eating that bowl of microwave chicken noodle soup and full sleeve of crackers before Minho came back out of his room. Minho wasn’t an idiot, either. He could just tell that Jisung was still hungry, so while they sat on the couch together to watch some mindless TV and Jisung nursed a second mug of tea, Minho ordered food from Jisung’s favorite restaurant. After all, hardly anything in the fridge was still good on account of how long Jisung had been gone, and there was no way Minho was going to feed him a frozen microwave dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll clear out your fridge whenever you want,” Minho promised as he watched Jisung inhale that second meal. “And I can do some grocery shopping for you, okay? You just stay in bed or on the couch and rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung broke the </span>
  <em>
    <span>no talking </span>
  </em>
  <span>rule to say, “You don’t have to do any of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I don’t have to. But I’m going to. So shut up and eat your food, alright? I’m not taking </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>for an answer.” He reached over and ran his fingers through Jisung’s hair, finally soft and clean again. “Just… let me take care of you. For my sake. I couldn’t stand to leave you alone right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Minho’s eyes darted to the bruises on Jisung’s arms didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe, when his throat stopped feeling like a cheese grater had been shoved down it, Jisung would tell him how he </span>
  <em>
    <span>got</span>
  </em>
  <span> all of those bruises. Maybe he would curl up against him and tell him about how some death curses were so malevolent, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>vicious </span>
  </em>
  <span>that they took on a semi-physical form to try to exact their revenge on the living. Maybe he would tell him about what they found, the stomach-turning record of sacrificial torture those corpses had experienced in life that led them to leave those curses behind. And maybe, just maybe, he would tell him how he spent every second thinking that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to get those curses contained—not for the sake of the village, but so he could go back home to Minho. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, he did as Minho asked. He ate his meal and drank his tea, didn’t move from his spot on the couch until he had to use the bathroom, and then went to bed at a surprisingly reasonable hour. And just like he had wished he could do whenever night fell over the village, he fell asleep in Minho’s arms. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well folks. I’ve still got a couple chapters in me, but I think we’ll be wrapping up soon! I’ve been working on this fic for quite awhile now and I’ve accomplished pretty much everything I wanted to do with it, so there’s just a few more things I want to have happen before we close out. I wouldn’t get your hopes up and expect anything big or grand since I’ve mostly kept this as a pretty chill slice-of-life kind of thing, but I hope you’ll all keep having fun with me to the last chapter whenever that is~ &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. 17.5 || Lee Minho Won’t Lose Han Jisung</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho wakes up in the middle of the night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is literally just 300 words so I almost didn’t post it buuuuuuut yolo right I don’t want it to go to waste</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Minho jerked awake, drenched in sweat with his heart racing. A nightmare, then. It was just a bad dream. They were both safe at home, warm and comfortable in bed—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except, when he rolled over to wrap his arm around Jisung, he wasn’t there. Haunted by the hectic, fear-filled dreams that he had just barely escaped from, his blood ran cold. Just as he was struggling against the sheet tangled around his legs, the bedroom door opened and Jisung came ambling back in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho breathed a sigh of relief. “Where’d you go?” he asked, his voice thick and heavy with sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung fell unceremoniously back into bed. “I had to pee,” he grumbled as he fought with the blankets. “Where else would I go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Jisung was comfortable again, Minho trapped him in a tight embrace. If he had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>properly </span>
  </em>
  <span>awake, he probably wouldn’t have said what was on his mind. Instead, through the haze of sleep, he muttered, “Please don’t leave me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm? What’d’ya mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho buried his face in the crook of Jisung’s neck, holding him close and squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Stay with me, please. Please don’t go anywhere. I can’t—I can’t lose you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it was a bit of a battle considering how tightly Minho was holding him, Jisung managed to roll over to face him. “‘M not goin’ anywhere. You aren’t gonna lose me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought… I was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>worried</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. ‘M sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… I love you. I love you </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much, </span>
  </em>
  <span>please don’t ever leave me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Min…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you wouldn’t come </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing in this world could keep me from coming home, Min.” He smiled weakly, heart heavy with the knowledge of Minho’s distress. “I’ll always come back to you. I promise. Go back to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nodded slightly. “You too,” he muttered. “Love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. 18 || Han Jisung Has Recovered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Minho drags Jisung to a gathering to celebrate his recovery from that trip, and they have a talk later that night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Puppy Bowl Sunday everyone &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In a few days, Jisung would go back to work full-time after working part-time with a colleague for the past two weeks. The first week after he got back home from his trip, Minho had hardly left Jisung’s side—and hardly let him get out of bed, which actually wasn’t that bad. But after that week, Jisung found himself itching to get up and get on campus, to walk through the collection and see it all for himself. He trusted his colleague to handle it while he was out of commission, of course, but it was ultimately his responsibility. And he missed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the part-time arrangement was made. He had rested well in that week at home, but he still stumbled here and there when he got back to work, still ran out of energy quicker than he would have liked. That wasn’t new, but it was always frustrating. It was the one part of the job he never got used to. Spending several days on minimal rest and food while attempting to calm the angry spirits of the dead who had been used as human sacrifices in a village that didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe </span>
  </em>
  <span>in human sacrifice was just… well, it certainly wasn’t something he was going to make a habit of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over those two weeks, he slowly managed to regain his strength. But by the time he felt like he could handle it all by himself again, school let out for spring break. Naturally. It would be a month-long mad dash towards the end of the school year once spring break ended, and it was the time of year he loved the most. The end of the spring semester was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>different </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the end of the winter semester. The air was fresher, the students more vibrant at the changing weather, the semester’s end more </span>
  <em>
    <span>final </span>
  </em>
  <span>as the school year wrapped up… the kids who came to his office during those last few weeks were always so determined to do well, and it got him fired up, too. A month after he returned home from that village, getting back in the office to work with the springtime students he loved so much was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what he needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a couple of days, though. At that exact moment, he mostly needed to get up to go refill his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, Jisung would normally be spending his spring break at home watching movies on his couch, but he hadn’t exactly had a choice tonight. Minho had shown up on his doorstep, essentially dragged him to his car, and brought him to Chan’s house without ever telling him what was going on. The sun was starting to set as he was dragged out into the backyard—where a table of various snacks and drinks was set up on the patio, and their friends were waiting for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little party was for him, Minho said proudly. They'd all gotten together and planned this to celebrate that he was well enough to go back to work full time again, so Jisung would be staying and having fun with them whether he wanted to or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he wanted to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been hours ago. It was well after midnight now, with a round full moon hanging in the sky, but he didn’t feel the slightest bit tired. Whether it was the atmosphere they had created for him or the good, slightly alcoholic shit Changbin had brought, he was wide awake and thrilled about it. All would settle back down and he would readjust to his normal life after this night was over, but for now, holding Minho’s hand as they laid in the grass to watch the stars, the world seemed just a bit more magical. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From somewhere closer to the house, the guys were chanting for Chan to shotgun… something. Jisung wasn’t sure what. He didn’t feel like getting up to look. He was perfectly happy where he was, soaking in starlight and the feeling of Minho’s hand in his. A cheer went up from the patio; Chan must have done it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so pretty when you smile like that,” Minho said softly from beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Jisung replied. “Do you know what he was drinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of Changbin’s shit, I think. He should know better than to chug that stuff. He’ll be feeling it in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. Kinda hope I’ll be feeling you in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho laughed. “Han Jisung, are you trying to get in my pants?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung grinned and looked over at him. “That depends. Is it working?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had expected Minho to roll his eyes, to say something like a snarky </span>
  <em>
    <span>you wish </span>
  </em>
  <span>and move on. But he didn’t. Instead, the next thing Jisung knew, Minho had crawled on top of him and trapped him there, victory in his eyes when Jisung’s expression shifted from teasing to surprised. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, Jisung never had actually gotten used to seeing Minho. He had thought he had, but every now and then, it struck him again how </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was. That smile of his, that perfect nose, those beautiful red-tinged brown eyes… he was absolutely unreal, but he was there and he was Jisung’s and it was all so much more than he ever could have asked for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when Jisung’s heart returned to a semi-usual rhythm and he figured Minho would be getting off of him, something in the air between them seemed to snap. Minho swallowed hard, his eyes still trained on Jisung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung almost didn’t hear it when Minho quietly asked, “Can I bite you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t as surprised as he maybe should have been; it was the timing that caught him off guard, not the question itself. No matter how well Minho did with his rations and no matter how good he was at keeping himself calm and under control, he was still a vampire. There wasn’t a vampire on the planet who would choose pre-sucked government rations over a soft, warm, willing body in their arms. Hell, that was how the tension between Chris and Felix had finally snapped a few weeks after the semester started—Chan overworked himself, as usual, and Felix had stepped in to help him recover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, he had seen it coming. He had always known that the question would probably come, that Minho would reach a point where he wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of Jisung. And that was okay. He had been mentally preparing himself for that for a long time now, to a point where he had… actually been looking forward to it. He’d talked to some other people online, folks who were donors to their vampire significant others, and they had all said the same thing: It was worth it. It didn’t always feel good, but was worth it in every way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung knew exactly what he was doing when he replied, “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho moved slowly, gently, giving Jisung plenty of time to change his mind and take it back. He didn’t. He tilted his head back to expose more of his throat, hummed in satisfaction when Minho’s lips touched his skin. He reached up to tangle his fingers in Minho’s hair, just to give himself something to hold onto to keep himself grounded as his eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After one more silent moment, devoid of Jisung protesting, Minho’s fangs pierced his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The people he’d talked to had been right. It didn’t really feel good. It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have sharp teeth embedded in his throat. Oh, he knew that this was actually a threat to his life. A sort of primal fear started trying to claw its way to the surface to tell him to fight, to run, but a low groan emerging from the back of Minho’s throat dispelled that thought entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew Minho wouldn’t hurt him—and the bite didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>, no more than it hurt to have blood drawn for a medical test. The tension drained from his muscles and he drowned in the sensation of Minho’s tongue dancing across his skin as he tried to lap up every drop of blood that spilled from the punctures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it wasn’t particularly comfortable, but knowing that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Minho </span>
  </em>
  <span>made it so, so easy to settle into. Being close to him, helping him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He could get used to this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even try to keep track of time. The next thing he knew, though, Chan was yelling </span>
  <em>
    <span>you two better not be fucking on my lawn </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Minho was crawling off of him to assure Chan that they weren’t, his lips stained red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho looked back down at Jisung, then suddenly stood and headed back towards the patio. When Jisung tried to sit up to see what he was doing, a wave of nausea hit him. So, maybe mixing light alcohol and having his blood sucked wasn’t a good idea. He quickly threw away the idea of getting up and laid back down, sighing softly and reaching up to rub his neck. It was… sticky. Removing his hand revealed his own blood covering his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when he was about to start panicking, Minho returned with a wad of napkins to press against the still-bleeding wound. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I should’ve had something on hand before I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Minho wasn’t trying to stop Jisung’s neck from bleeding, he would have shook his head. “It’s fine. All’s well that ends well, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that gentle smile Jisung loved so much on his face, Minho nodded. “Right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was past two in the morning by the time they collapsed into Minho’s bed together. Minho had known he’d be driving Jisung home that night, so he had wisely abstained from drinking anything… questionable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aside from the soda, it had all been questionable. He did not trust whatever the fuck Changbin brought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though it was late and hardly the time for a serious conversation, he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out as they got comfortable. He held Jisung’s hand in his and said tentatively, “I think we should move in together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, we practically live together already.” That was entirely true. Day after day they’d meet up or text, then chose an apartment to go to for the night. It was a bit of a messy arrangement, but they did their best to make it work. Minho squeezed Jisung’s hand. “I just… I know we haven’t been together all that long, but I… I want to be with you, y’know? You can say no if you think it’s too soon, that’s fine, I just wanted to put it out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung sat up. He heard an irritated grumble from one of the cats as he shifted his legs, but he had to sit up to look Minho in the eyes, no matter how annoyed Dori got with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to live with me? Like, full-time? Even after all the bullshit I’ve put you through these past few weeks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do, Jisung. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had nightmares for a week after I got back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you always calmed me down. What’s your point?” Worry was beginning to sneak its way onto his face. “Seriously, if you don’t want to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say that,” Jisung interrupted. “I just… Even though I’ll take up an entire room for all my magic shit and hardly ever let you in?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind it at all. It’s your work, and I respect that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even though you’ll either have to hear five of my alarms every morning or wake me up yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That happens whenever we stay the night together anyway. I don’t mind helping you wake up in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even though I’m prone to getting out of bed at three in the morning to have cheesecake while you’re asleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> what happens to the damn things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jisung,” Minho said with a laugh. “You remember the part where I said we practically live together already, right? I know what you’re like. And I want to be with you, no matter what.” He broke eye contact, looking away to mutter, “It would make me feel better, too. Being close to you all the time, after everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung settled back in next to him, his head on Minho’s chest. The past few weeks had been rough on both of them. Jisung had been on the mend physically, while Minho had to grapple with the mental and emotional stress that had come with not knowing if his boyfriend was alive or dead out there. Jisung hadn’t really been planning on turning down Minho’s offer, but hearing that it would make Minho feel better… “I’d like that, then,” he said after a moment of listening to Minho’s heartbeat. “If you really think you can handle me, I’d really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>should be more worried about handling </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Minho replied. “You got so sick of me trying to take care of your apartment when you were recovering from your trip, what’re you gonna do when we </span>
  <em>
    <span>live </span>
  </em>
  <span>together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly? It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad. I played it up a little because I felt guilty for not being able to do it myself, but I always enjoy you taking care of me.” Minho couldn’t see it, but he smiled. “You make me feel… shit, I don’t know how to explain it. Everything I think of feels too cheesy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all those three in the morning cheesecakes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cats grumbled when Jisung readjusted yet again. There was a stupid shit-eating grin on Minho’s face, a little too much amusement in his eyes. Well, if there were two things Han Jisung knew how to do, they were how to practice the dark arts and how to get Lee Minho to shut up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting Lee Minho to shut up was arguably the more challenging of the two, but, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he wouldn’t have it any other way. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alrighty folks so! After this I’ll have 18.5, 19, maaaaaaaaaybe a 19.5? Not sure yet, and then I think we’ll wrap up in 20! I’ve been working on this for quite awhile now and I’m happy with what we’ve accomplished here, so I think it’s for the best that we finish before I get bored, y’know? I hope we’re all satisfied with that &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. 18.5 || Hwang Hyunjin’s Reconciliations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hyunjin takes a bit of a trip down memory lane.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to talk about Hwang Hyunjin so by God I did it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When they had met, Jisung had made an off-handed, stupid comment about, “You’re a nymph? I thought you were all women.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Hyunjin, having heard that kind of thing way too many times, hated him instantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was frustrating. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought you were all women </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that explains why you’re so pretty </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I bet the ladies are all over you</span>
  </em>
  <span>… Jisung didn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much, but it was the kind of shit Hyunjin had been hearing his whole life. It had been especially common when he was still a student, but now that he had a class of his own, he somehow hated hearing it even more. His entire identity wasn’t based around his species, no one’s was, and it made him so </span>
  <em>
    <span>irritated </span>
  </em>
  <span>that his species was the first thing people commented on if they knew it. Not his profession, not his hobbies, not his goals, but something he hadn’t had a choice in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, yeah, when they first met, Hwang Hyunjin hated Han Jisung. It was all about principle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been hostile to Jisung because of that, and Jisung wasn’t the type to lay down and take it. He was hostile right back. It was all glares and snide remarks and angry yells when they ran into each other for a long time after that, all culminating in them almost having a <em>legitimate</em> <em>fistfight</em> out on the library lawn. But Chan had been there, stood between them, and forced them to talk out their differences like adults. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hadn’t meant any harm with his initial comment, and really, Hyunjin had already known that. Having grown up surrounded by the more basic of species—other witches, vampires, werewolves, elves, fairies, and the like—, Jisung </span>
  <em>
    <span>genuinely </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit </span>
  </em>
  <span>about rare species like nymphs. And maybe Hyunjin had overreacted, but he couldn’t stand it when people made a thing out of his species when it was the least important part of who he was. So he had lashed out, and they had ended up hating each other and fighting over literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He didn’t actually think Jisung was a bad guy, and Jisung didn’t actually hate Hyunjin. They just didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>get </span>
  </em>
  <span>each other, so they’d built up some bullshit rivalry instead of trying to get to know and understand one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan had made them go to get coffee with him multiple times a week for a month after that, supervising them as they tried to get on the same page. They had too many friends in common to hate each other, especially when the strain on their relationship had formed over some stupid bullshit that could be rather easily resolved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Hyunjin had met Lee Minho, and it was the same shit all over again—just in a slightly different way. While Jisung’s mind was cluttered with magic and curses and a hundred different colleagues, Minho’s mind was an orderly collection of vampiric history and rare species, though he didn’t usually focus on the latter. But when he was presented with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>male </span>
  </em>
  <span>nymph, a one in five hundred chance in a species of no more than half a million individuals in a world of eight </span>
  <em>
    <span>billion </span>
  </em>
  <span>people, he had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrilled. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too </span>
  </em>
  <span>thrilled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin had hated him, too, though a bit less aggressively this time. He wasn’t interested in getting scolded by Chan again. Being close with Seungmin, Jeongin, and now Jisung after </span>
  <em>
    <span>years </span>
  </em>
  <span>of working on their friendship really threw a wrench in his plan to not interact with Minho. It became impossible to avoid the guy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>when he and Jisung got so close so fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, he swallowed his pride and initiated the conversation himself a couple days before New Year’s. Minho had apologized without hesitation, saying he knew his enthusiasm had upset Hyunjin but he hadn’t known how to try to fix it. He may have been a jackass, he said, but he wasn’t the type of person to continue with something that </span>
  <em>
    <span>genuinely </span>
  </em>
  <span>upset someone—so he would mind his business from then on, he promised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Such was the reconciliation of Hyunjin’s relationships with Han Jisung and Lee Minho. He was glad for it most days, but sometimes he wondered if maybe he should have held those grudges. Like right now, as he was trying to help Jisung pack up the absolute fucking disaster that was his workroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had come as absolutely no surprise when Jisung told everyone that he was going to move in with Minho as soon as his lease was up. The landlady would be sad to see him go after several years in that apartment, but he wanted to be with Minho no matter what. Since Jisung’s complex didn’t allow pets, his choices were either for him to move into Minho’s apartment or for them to find a house to rent, and moving to Minho’s was definitely the easier of the two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That conversation had been… what was it, again? Like a couple months ago? Now Jisung’s lease had only two weeks left, and he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>behind on his packing schedule. One thing led to another, and before Hyunjin knew it, he had gotten roped into helping Jisung pack today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>Minho </span>
  </em>
  <span>help with this?” he asked as he taped shut a box of journals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s going to tomorrow,” Jisung said. “He’s just busy today, and I couldn’t afford to put this off for another day.” Jisung looked over at Hyunjin and smiled. “Thank you for helping me out in the meantime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin just sighed and shrugged. “What’re friends for, right?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just think he’s neat</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. 19 || Han Jisung Puts Up a Good Fight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung is finally moving in.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There they go......</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jisung groaned and leaned back against the wall, sighing heavily and looking around the room. He only had a week left before the new school year began, and it was starting to look like he’d never get it all unpacked before then. “I’m beginning to remember why I’ve lived in the same apartment for six years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho chuckled. “Yeah? I can’t imagine why you </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> enjoy moving all your shit. This is so fun!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung scoffed at the joke. “Shut up.” It was incredibly lucky that Minho had an office room in his apartment that he just… didn’t use. Minho had told him that he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>to use it when he started renting here, but he always ended up doing his work at the dining table or the coffee table or the desk in his room, so what was the point? It had ended up being full of shit for the cats, mostly cat trees and other stuff that they’d have to find a new place for now that it was full of Jisung’s bookcases and all the things that went on them. Books and figures and display cases and folders and journals and his little altar table and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna take a break?” Minho asked. “We’ve been at it for awhile.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung sighed. Oh, he definitely wanted to take a break, but all they had done was bring in the bookcases and emptied the contents of the boxes into piles on the floor. “Not yet,” he said rather reluctantly. “I need to put some more of this stuff away first. Thank you, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nodded and stood. “Alright. I’m gonna go make some food, though. I’ll bring you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, babe,” he replied. He watched Minho leave the room, then rolled his head to crack his neck. He had work to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had… a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of work to do. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, worrying over everything in front of him. This was a mess and he couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t upset about it; Minho had been helping him so much during the course of the move and he had done nothing to repay him. Minho had come over and helped him pack all his stuff, Minho had helped him pile it all into a moving truck and bring it over to his complex, and then he had helped Jisung carry it all in. He had helped him separate the boxes into ones that would go in the bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom, and his seemingly endless collection of boxes for Jisung’s office—assuming that was the right word for it, but he had started to feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic room</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a bit too childish of a term for the purpose it served. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The point was: Minho had been breaking his back trying to help Jisung get settled in, and Jisung hadn’t done anything for him, and he got the distinct feeling that he was taking up too much of Minho’s energy when it was all stuff he should have been able to handle on his own like a damn adult. No matter how often Minho assured him that it was no trouble, that he wanted to help, Jisung couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being too much of a burden. He was already shoving himself into Minho’s apartment, so the least he could do was get himself set up, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he forced himself to stand up and started sorting through the stacks of books around the room, doing his best to recreate the same basic setup he had back at his old apartment. If this was too different from what he had had before, he’d just be confused and irritated and constantly searching for his shit when he needed to already be sure of where it all was. He had only filled in one top shelf with some rarely used paperbacks when Minho returned with a bowl full of the snack mix Jisung liked. “Here,” he said, setting it down on one of the shelves. “I doubt you’re gonna stop for a proper meal, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Jisung said with a smile. “I’m not, not right now. Thanks for bringing me snacks, though. I’ll come out and eat lunch in a bit. What’re you gonna do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat my sandwich and try to find somewhere for the cat wheel, I guess.” Minho shrugged. “I think it might fit by the window in the living room. You aren’t gonna push yourself too hard, right? You’ll definitely come get some real food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung just rolled his eyes and started working on the next shelf down. “I’ll come get food soon, promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho made the decision to trust him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Minho had made the wrong decision. He didn’t pay much attention to the clock as he ate his lunch and then started to move the cats’ things around. It was during that process that he realized just </span>
  <em>
    <span>how much </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had bought over the years for those cats, but, hey, they were family to him. He was their caretaker, after all, and what kind of caretaker would he be if he didn’t give them nice things? When he was finally satisfied that the cat towers and the litter boxes were in good spots again, he pulled out his phone to check the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been two hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>had it been two hours?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t the important part. The important part was that it had been two hours and he hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of Han Jisung, who had promised him he’d come out of the office and get some real food. He sighed and shoved his phone back in his pocket before stalking down the short hall to the office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flung the door open without any ceremony. Jisung jumped and dropped the journal he was holding when Minho came barging in and startling him. “Wh—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I going to have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>drag </span>
  </em>
  <span>you out of here to get you to take a break and eat well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Relax,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jisung practically whined as he picked up the journal. “Look! I’m almost done. Just give me a few more mi—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho grabbed Jisung’s wrist. The concern in his eyes was unmistakable as he said, “Sung, you’ve been at it all day. You wouldn’t take a break after getting your </span>
  <em>
    <span>ungodly </span>
  </em>
  <span>amount of clothes put away, and now you won’t take a break from this? Come on, I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like any of this is that difficult,” Jisung said. “I’m fine, seriously. I can handle this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you can. But your stuff isn’t going anywhere, so what’s the rush? There’s already a bed for you to sleep in and you already had clothes over here, so there isn’t anything that immediately needs setting up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was quiet for a concerning moment, then asked, “Isn’t it annoying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All my shit being… everywhere. I mean, this was your place first, so aren’t I just getting in the way if I leave things everywhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighed and pulled Jisung into a too-tight embrace. “You’re fucking stupid,” he said with no anger in his voice. “This isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>apartment anymore. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>ours. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re allowed to be messy and all over the place. You’re allowed to take your time to get comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t want you to regret asking me to move in,” Jisung mumbled. If Minho weren’t of a predatory species with heightened senses, he might’ve missed it. “I don’t want to annoy you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only annoying thing about you is that you don’t take care of yourself the way I want you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung chuckled. “If it was up to you, I don’t think I’d ever get anything done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you definitely wouldn’t.” He kissed Jisung’s forehead. “I’d be taking care of you all the time. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d get </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much lazier if I didn’t have to take care of myself. And whiny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re already whiny and I still love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s just no arguing with you, is there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you want to live to see tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t scare me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho playfully snapped his teeth at Jisung. “You sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. Absolutely positive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess I’m losing my touch, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho started taking steps back towards the door, pulling Jisung along with him. “You’re taking a break with me whether you like it or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung sighed heavily, but he let himself be dragged out in the living room and forced down onto the couch while Minho went to make him a sandwich. He couldn’t help but bounce his leg as he waited, brimming with energy and the feeling that he needed to go back in the office and finish up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax,” Minho said when he returned, shoving a plate into Jisung’s hands before sitting down next to him. He rubbed Jisung’s back as he ate. “Just eat, okay? You can get back to work when you’re done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was tempting to scarf down the food and rush back to work, but he knew Minho would just get into him if he did that, so he leaned back to take his time. “‘Kay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you can also ask me for help if you want to get it done quicker. You’re not annoying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're always taking care of me,” Jisung muttered. “I feel like I need to do more for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho just rolled his eyes. “You being here with me is</span>
  <em>
    <span> more </span>
  </em>
  <span>than enough, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Loser.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on!” Jisung yelled. “When did you get good at this game?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho snickered as Jisung’s character flickered back to life on the screen, down to his last life. “I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> get good at the game, you also started sucking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they both started button mashing again, Jisung grit his teeth and said, “So you’re gonna be like that, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung knew Minho was trying to rile him up on purpose again. He loved Minho to death, he really did, but that bastard knew just how to get under Jisung’s skin and push him to the edge. And maybe that was the plan, if only to make the game a little more interesting—fueled by his desire to wipe that shitty smirk off his boyfriend’s face, Jisung got just a bit more invested in the stakes of the game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cheered when he knocked Minho’s character off the platform and to his death. Two lives left. He could do this. He could still win this game. They’d made a stupid bet that whoever lost would have to do the dishes for a week, and Jisung would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>damned </span>
  </em>
  <span>if he spent his first week in this apartment washing </span>
  <em>
    <span>dishes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d do a lot of things for Minho, he really would, but the dishes were one of his least favorite chores. He wasn’t going down without a fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another tense couple of minutes, Jisung was victorious again, Minho’s character collapsing and his life counter ticking down to one. They were on a level playing field again, and this one decided everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna kick your ass, Lee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fucking doomed, Han.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The match began. There was yelling and the obnoxious clicking of controller buttons and no small amount of cursing as both of their life meters drained with each hit. Jisung had been living in this apartment for about twelve hours and he was pretty sure the neighbors probably already hated him, but, hey, he could deal with that later. Right now, he was less concerned with being quiet for the neighbors’ sake and more concerned with </span>
  <em>
    <span>winning. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jump, kick, kick, punch, dodge, punch—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho erupted into a victorious laugh. He dropped his controller on the coffee table and pulled Jisung into his arms. “Good fight, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung tried and failed to squirm out of Minho’s grasp. “Man, fuck this,” he said, though he quickly gave up and went limp in Minho’s arms. “I’ll get you next time and you’ll be on </span>
  <em>
    <span>toilet duty.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna bet </span>
  <em>
    <span>toilet cleaning </span>
  </em>
  <span>duty because of a week of doing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>dishes? </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s awfully dramatic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew before you asked me to move in here that I’m a dramatic little shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nodded and got Jisung to face him, then kissed him without hesitation. “Of course, of course,” he said when they parted. “I know you are. But I’ll win that match, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t,” Jisung insisted. “I’m gonna practice and get back into the swing of things and kick your ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock at the door. Minho sighed and let Jisung go, muttering, “That’ll probably be Ms. Kim to tell us to shut the fuck up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should—Should I answer it? I mean, I was louder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Minho was already at the door. He opened it expecting to see that old woman from next door, but… he hadn’t been expecting to see a bottle of wine on his doorstep and the back of one of their friends running back down the hall as fast as he could. It looked like Chan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he picked up the bottle and examined the little gift tag attached to it, he saw he was right. It was Chan’s handwriting saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Congrats! Have fun together~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but smile as he closed the door. “Our friends are children. Chan just ding-dong ditched us and left some wine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entirely unconcerned with the immaturity of their friends, Jisung just asked, “Oh? Is it good shit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho examined the label. “Uh… probably? I don’t know. You know I don’t drink wine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bring it here, lemme see,” Jisung said, crawling off the couch and going to meet Minho as he walked back towards the living room.  “I get gifted </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too much wine from clients. I can probably tell you if it’s good or not.” Minho handed the bottle over, and after a moment, Jisung shrugged. “I’ve had this brand before. It’s pretty standard stuff, but it’s sweet of him to have brought this for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Minho hauled Jisung into the living room for lunch, they had never actually gotten back to unpacking. Jisung kept meaning to, but Minho kept finding some way to keep him on the couch with him, finally culminating in that fighting game battle. He’d said that he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>get back to work after they were done playing, but when presented with a free bottle of wine, it was only natural that they take the time to pour a couple glasses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if those couple glasses led to more cuddling on the couch, who was he to complain? And if that cuddling led to kissing which led to heading to bed just a little bit earlier than usual, he certainly wasn’t going to fight it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho was right, after all. They lived together now, didn’t they? This apartment wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>Minho’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Jisung wasn’t a visitor anymore. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>theirs</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that meant nothing of Jisung’s was out of place while it waited to be put away. It could wait until morning. He could relax and feel at </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was definitely going to get used to this. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. 20 || Han Jisung is in Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jisung does a bit of reflecting as a new school year rolls around.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[[Snoop Dogg in California Girls voice]] greetings loved ones</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>August 12th, 11:14 A.M, all quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the first report of the new school year, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it felt good to be back. Even after he recovered and went back to work full time in the spring, Minho had… hovered. A lot. Just to make sure Jisung didn’t have some kind of sudden downward spiral and collapse on the job. And then when they made it to summer vacation, the amount of time Jisung was supposed to spend in the office was cut dramatically, not to mention how much time he spent distracted with all the fine tunings of the move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was done. It was all said and done, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jisung and Minho woke up in the same bed, ate breakfast at the same table, headed out of the same apartment—and </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>was going to stop Jisung from enjoying his job again, considering that Minho had calmed the fuck down again and </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>believed it when Jisung said he was fine to do a day’s work. Everything was back to normal. Everything was just as it should be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returned to the front office and sat down at his desk, suddenly overcome with a strong wave of nostalgia. It had been almost a year now, hadn't it? Almost a year since one Lee Minho, professor of the three-days-a-week section of Classical Vampire Studies, had come walking into his office to ask to borrow a powerful artifact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost a year since Han Jisung’s life had changed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, that was so corny and lame, but it was true, wasn’t it? Back then… it wasn’t like he had been depressed or unhappy with his lot in life, not at all. He had always been very content with what he had been given, from his species to the works he was able to accomplish because of it. He had some good friends, people he liked to spend time with when he had the energy to, and he never really felt like he had been alone. Even as he knelt by his altar and coated crystals in his own blood to protect himself from the evils he worked to contain every day, he had been happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Minho had walked through his door and suddenly everything looked just a little bit different. Minho was gorgeous and smart and way more caring than he let on to people he didn’t know, the kind of guy to mercilessly tease someone one moment just to do everything he could to comfort them in the next. Lee Minho had wrapped his arm around Jisung and never let go, and Jisung was </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than happy with that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung glanced at the clock. It was about time. He stood and gathered up his things, making sure to transport that glass case with the utmost care. As always, he said hello to the colleagues he saw along the way. Doors were held open for him as he carried the case, the glass covered by a blanket to keep the sunlight from disturbing what rested within as he made his way to Sheppard Hall, room 306. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That door, at least, was standing wide open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear Minho speaking as he approached. “I’m glad to meet all of you,” he was saying, “and I hope we can have a good semester together. Now, I’ll be passing out these questionnaires for you all to fill out by the end of class, but we will be having a visitor, so—speak of the devil. You’re a few minutes late, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung rolled his eyes and grinned as he placed the case on Minho’s desk. “And you were late to our last group lunch, but I didn’t call you out on it,” he teased, smiling wider when he heard some of the students giggle. That was a good sign; God knew the last batch had been pretty boring and unresponsive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho smiled, put his hands on Jisung’s shoulders, and turned him to face the class. “Everyone, this is the collection’s keeper, Han Jisung. He’ll be coming in from time to time to talk to you about items mentioned in our textbook.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand instantly shot up, belonging to a girl with brightly dyed hair. Minho nodded for her to ask her question. “I heard you two are dating,” she said without preamble. “Is that true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s true,” Minho said without hesitation, surprising Jisung in the process. He had expected him to be a bit more embarrassed about the question. “But we both have jobs to do on campus, and he’d do this for anyone who asked. Don’t waste your time dwelling on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Jisung confirmed. “And since this is your first day in class, I brought a book to show you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a collective groan from the class. They’d looked at the syllabus by now; they knew they’d already been assigned a chapter or two. But Minho stepped off to the side to let Jisung do his thing, which was certainly more interesting than the dry textbook the University required for this class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The book Jisung brought with him wasn’t the type to be read by students, though. In fact, it was probably for the best that nobody read that old journal with the faded ink; the vampire woman who had written it all those hundreds of years ago had had quite a way with words, enchanting any who dared to read what she wrote. Sometimes that enchantment was relatively harmless, making them stumble more often or struggle to find the word they were looking for. But sometimes the enchantment wasn’t harmless. Sometimes they became obsessed with her, with her words, and it drove them to the brink of their sanity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>History had remembered her, but it would have been better if she had never done anything to be remembered for. After all, that journal described the long, long processes of human experimentation she had done in her quest to become strong enough to rule over the rest of her species. Sure, she may have failed, but if that accursed journal had anything to say about it, she was far from gone. Supposedly, sooner or later, an unwitting victim would read those pages and her essence would return, taking over that person and twisting them into a monster like she had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was just the thinly veiled threat written within the journal. There was no </span>
  <em>
    <span>proof </span>
  </em>
  <span>it would happen, but better safe than sorry, right? The students took it in stride, a couple of them even jotting down notes in case they came in handy later. There were no questions, though, not when they hadn’t fully settled into the environment Minho wanted to create in his classroom each semester. He had faith that they’d come around eventually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, it would be the regular routine. He wrapped up with his presentation and headed back to his office, returned the journal to its place, and settled in for another long day of hoping someone would come through his door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was going to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>long day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, do you think this semester is gonna be good?” Jisung asked as he and Minho walked back to the car. It wouldn’t be too much longer before the sun started to set around this time, he thought. Walking with Minho during sunset… God, who even </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>he anymore, thinking stupid cheesy things like that? Ugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho thought for a moment. “Mmm. We made some good progress with breaking the ice today. I’ll have a better idea once I’ve finished going through all the questionnaires, but I’ve got a good feeling about this group.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it really okay for me to come help you with class still, though? I mean—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We cleared it with HR, Jisung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but what if it’s distracting for the kids?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What could be distracting? It’s not like I’m gonna grab your ass in front of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung barely managed to grab Minho’s wrist in time. “But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>trying to grab my ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho just grinned. “Well, obviously. Who do you think I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn that man and his ability to grin his way out of anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying,” Jisung continued, interlacing his fingers with Minho’s, “the first thing they wanted to know was whether we’re actually dating. So they know, and it might be distracting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do I feel like you’re more worried about my class than I am?” He squeezed Jisung’s hand. “And don’t give me some bullshit about not wanting to cause trouble for me or whatever it is you think about yourself. I wouldn’t invite you if I thought it would cause trouble. They only asked because it was the first day and they’d heard a rumor. I doubt they actually give a shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jisung was silent, Minho sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I gonna do with you?” he asked as they reached the car. “You don’t need to worry about my class, Jisung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joke’s on you, I don’t just worry about your class. I worry about </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and that’s why </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>worry about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Minho replied. There was a bit of exasperation in his voice, but mostly a softhearted concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shook his head as they crawled into the car to start heading home. “You worry about me too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho reached out, one hand on the steering wheel and one holding Jisung’s. “You love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You love me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn. I thought I’d done a good job of hiding it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. You suck at keeping secrets from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho glanced over as they pulled to a stop at a red light. “Guess so. That’s just because I don’t want to keep anything from you, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I love you too much to keep secrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung chuckled, content with Minho’s hand in his. He turned his head to look at Minho, to admire that man who had changed so much for him. There was no better way to describe how he felt than to smile and say, “I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That’s all folks..... it’s nothing grand or anything but I’m just glad to bring it to a happy ending &lt;3 Thank you all for coming along with me throughout the course of this story!! It means so so much to me that you guys have supported me all this time~</p><p>I might take a couple weeks before I post anything else, but I’ve had a couple hyunchan AUs I’ve been kicking around with a friend, so you can expect I’ll probably start one of those soon! I know hyunchan isn’t exactly as popular as minsung, but I really love them, so I hope at least a couple of you will stick with me for those~ until then, see you all later!! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Idk why you’d want to but y’all can hmu on twt if you want @totoroism</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>